gaze from the heavens, ghost from the past

Journal of Film Music 3.1 (2010) 51-64 ISSN (print) 1087-7142doi:10.1558/jfm.v3i1.51 ISSN (online) 1758-860X

© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2010, 1 Chelsea Manor Studios, Flood Street, London SW3 5SR.

Introduction

M usic for film comprises a large portion of Toru Takemitsu’s compositions; however, his innovative use of music and sound

in film has yet to be explored in full. In this study, I investigate one of Takemitsu’s most successful film scores, the music for Akira Kurosawa’s film, Ran (1985).1 I focus in this article on the two types of music that Takemitsu composed for Ran, which elicit and convey contrastive meanings in the film. Comprised of opposing musical attributes, the two types of music signify intricately related meanings of text, form, dramatic characterization, and background philosophy in the film, enhancing the film’s many

1 Takemitsu’s film score for Ran won the prestigious Japan Academy Award and Los Angeles Film Critics Association Award.

symbolic meanings and connotations. The first type is the solo flute music that is written in the style of traditional Japanese music, notably for the Japanese Noh theater. The second type is the Mahler-inspired symphonic music composed at Kurosawa’s request. It is now well known that Shakespeare’s tragedy King Lear provides the narrative of Kurosawa’s Ran; however, Kurosawa’s allusion to King Lear is mostly limited to its characters and its basic plot. This study demonstrates that the settings and the background aesthetics in Ran are entirely built on Japanese elements. Staged in the Japanese medieval age, the Japanese elements interspersed in Ran include the philosophical influence of Buddhism, various allusions to the Noh theater, and the perception of time as cyclic. Also, the historical background of the family depicted in the film and the family

Gaze from the Heavens, Ghost from the Past: Symbolic Meanings in Toru Takemitsu’s Music for Akira Kurosawa’s Film, Ran (1985)

ToMoKo DEGuCHI129 Conservatory of Music, Winthrop university, Rock Hill, SC [email protected]

Abstract:In this essay I discuss two types of music that Takemitsu composed for Kurosawa’s Ran (1985), for which Shakespeare’s King Lear provides the narrative. The first type is the solo flute music that is written in the style of traditional Japanese music, notably for the Noh theater. The second type of music is the Mahler-inspired symphonic music. The two types of music, comprised of opposing musical attributes, signify the intricately related meanings of text, jo-ha-kyū form, dramatic characterization, and Buddhist philosophy as background of the film, enhancing the film’s many symbolic meanings and connotations. More significantly, through the differences in the compositional styles of the two types of music, Takemitsu brings into the light two seemingly veiled omni-presences of the film: the blind hermit Tsurumaru for whom the flute is virtually his identity, and the gaze of the heavens as representing the vulnerable existence of humankind as a whole within history.

Keywords: Toru Takemitsu, Ran soundtrack, Noh flute, Akira Kurosawa, Tomoko Deguchi

mailto:[email protected]

52 THE JouRNAL oF FILM MuSIC

© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2010.

members’ sense of loyalty are derived from a purely Japanese environment. In this framework, Takemitsu eloquently signifies and interprets these Japanese aesthetics in Ran’s adaptation of King Lear through his music. More significantly, it is through differences in the compositional styles of the two types of music—the solo flute music and the symphonic music—that Takemitsu brings into the light two seemingly veiled omnipresences in the film: the blind hermit Tsurumaru and the gaze of the heavens. The solo flute music is scored for three types of flutes: two kinds of traditional Japanese flute called the ryuteki and the shinobue, and in one instance the piccolo (doubled by oboe).2 The solo flute music that is written in the style of Japanese traditional music conveys multiple meanings throughout the film, but first and foremost it individualizes one of the main characters, Tsurumaru, for whom the flute is virtually his identity. The wailing sound of the flute can be heard intermittently throughout the film as if to curse the warlord Hidetora, eventually plummeting him into downfall. The flute music is associated with Noh theater by the compositional style of the music and also by its role as framing of the jo-ha-kyu form of the film. Through the connection to Noh theater, which developed in the medieval ages with a strong Buddhist view of the world, and also through the non-developmental nature of the music, the flute music expresses the notion of history as cyclic. The compositional style used for the solo flute music contrasts significantly with the symphonic music used in extensive battle scenes. The combination of the dark, poignant, and lush symphonic music that is decidedly more universal in style, together with the muting of all source sound3 in the battlefield, conveys a sense of detachment and timelessness. In stark contrast to the flute music that conveys human emotions, the symphonic music represents the vulnerable existence of humankind as a whole within history, as gazed from above. In my discussion, I analyze the two types of music in the context of the following issues: Shakespeare’s King Lear as a narrative model for Ran, Buddhist doctrine as an important framework for the historical and philosophical context of the film, and the dramatic significance of the allusions to Noh theater.

2 I refer to Takemitsu’s score at the Documentation Center for Modern Japanese Music, Tokyo, indicated as source number F28c.3 With respect to terminology, source sound/music is equivalent to diegetic sound/music.

Shakespeare’s King Lear and Kurosawa’s Ran

The film’s title Ran has been translated as “chaos” or “revolt,” but the single Chinese character ran also conveys connotations of upheaval, discord, turmoil, and anarchy,4 which represents the turbulent time of the medieval period in Japan. Kurosawa exploits the similarities between the two plots of King Lear and Ran in two significant ways: (1) through parallel characters—King Lear’s three daughters are transformed into the warlord Hidetora’s three sons, Taro, Jiro, and Saburo, and the fool in King Lear parallels Kyoami, the fool in Ran (see Figure 1); and (2) through parallel plots—just as in King Lear, Hidetora’s two older children betray their father and drive him into insanity. At the end of the film, after reaching reconciliation, the third son and his father both die. In using King Lear as a source for Ran, Kurosawa was puzzled that Shakespeare had not given his characters any past. In an article in the New York Times, Kurosawa states:

We are plunged directly into the agonies of their present dilemmas without knowing how they came to this point. How did Lear acquire the power that, as an old man, he abuses with such disastrous effects? Without knowing his past, I have never really understood the ferocity of his daughters’ response to Lear’s feeble attempts to shed his royal power.5

Inspiration for the story first came from the legend of Motonari Moori (1497–1571), who was a warlord in medieval Japan, to which Kurosawa incorporated elements of King Lear. The story of the Moori legend is that the warlord gives each of his three sons an arrow and then orders each to break it. He then gives each a bundle of three arrows and demonstrates that it is more difficult to break the bundle than a single arrow. The allegory is that although an individual is weak, the combined power of three sons is stronger and not easily destroyed. Moori is also remembered for the political maxim that a leader should not trust anyone, particularly family members.6 The legend of Moori accommodates rather than duplicates the plot of King Lear by adding the Japanese conception of family and political loyalty to the historical context of

4 James Goodwin, Akira Kurosawa and Intertextual Cinema (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins university Press, 1994), 196.5 Peter Grilli, “Kurosawa directs a Cinematic Lear,” New York Times, December 15, 1985, sec. 2, 17; quoted in ibid., 197.6 Goodwin, 196.

53DEGuCHI


Ran. However, this characterization leads to greater emphasis on the generic notion of the behavior of men and history, thus relating more to the cyclicality of history and not to each individualized person. In conjunction with Kurosawa’s abstraction of the three sons’ names, the characters of each tend towards generic representations. The names of the three sons (Ichiro, Jiro, and Saburo) literally translate in Japanese as “first son,” “second son,” and “third son,” which serves to emphasize the hierarchical position in the family system. Also, each son is given a symbolic color for his robes, banners, and pennants: yellow for Taro, red for Jiro, and blue for Saburo. Moreover, the number of horizontal lines on the pennants corresponds to their names. In this way, Kurosawa reduces the individuality of the sons to mere generic icons, emphasizing the more universal notion of “sons in a family system,” rather than on their personalities and their inner emotions. However, there is one important character in Ran who does not have a corresponding character in King Lear. Viewers of Ran likely will remember most vividly the source music of the transverse flute played by the blind hermit Tsurumaru in the scene when Hidetora encounters Tsurumaru in the wilderness. While there is no character corresponding to Tsurumaru in King Lear, Edgar, who disguises himself as a madman and whom the king encounters in the wilderness, is perhaps the only equivalent character to Tsurumaru in King Lear. However, there is one essential difference between these two characters: Tsurumaru’s hatred toward Hidetora comes from their past relationship, while Edgar, the son of Gloucester in the sub-plot of King Lear, subsequently takes revenge for his father’s mistreatment. The reference to Tsurumaru’s blindness might come as well from the fact that Gloucester is blinded in the course of King Lear.7

7 Goodwin comments about the combined characterization of Gloucester and Edgar in Tsurumaru as a blinded victim living as a hermit in exile (208).

Tsurumaru plays a crucial role in this film as a victim of Hidetora’s past brutal conduct. When Hidetora was expanding his property by demolishing his rivals, massacring their men and other family members, Tsurumaru as a youth was blinded in exchange for his life. When Hidetora has lost his sanity and has been wandering in the heath with his fool Kyoami and his loyal retainer Tango, they find their way to Tsurumaru’s dilapidated hut. Tsurumaru plays the flute as the sole entertainment for the guests (Example 1).8 By confronting Tsurumaru, Hidetora temporarily regains his sanity; but as a result of hearing the high-pitched shrieking cry and the fluctuating tones of the flute penetrating the hearts of the listener, Hidetora realizes the agony and suffering he caused Tsurumaru. Haunted by the sound of the flute, he wanders back into the wilderness and into insanity.9 The music in this scene is played by the Japanese instrument called the shinobue, which is similar to the nohkan that is used in the Japanese Noh theater.10 The flute is the only wind instrument used in Noh theater besides the three drums. In the film, subtle, but abundant use of drums often accompanies the solo flute written in Noh style and other music. The short segments of solo flute music are interspersed at key moments, punctuating the narrative and the form of the film. The instrument

He also compares the events that blind Gloucester and Tsurumaru, in which “Ran reverses the logic that underpins the tragic course of events in King Lear” (202). My claim that there is no corresponding character of Tsurumaru in King Lear is that Tsurumaru is the symbolization of unuttered human pathos that underlies Ran.8 Source number F28b, Documentation Center for Modern Japanese Music, Tokyo.9 As Saviour Catania describes, “Tsurumaru plays the music of tears we never hear him shed.” See Saviour Catania, “Wailing Woodwind Wild: The Noh Transcription of Shakespeare’s Silent Sounds in Kurosawa’s Ran,” Literature/Film Quarterly 34, no. 2 (2006), 85-91.10 However, the exact type of the transverse flute that viewers see Tsurumaru playing is unclear. Shinobue, ryuteki, and nohkan are related and have similar timbre and performance style but are used for different performance media. I suspect that Takemitsu calls for shinobue and ryuteki in the score for Ran instead of the nohkan, since each nohkan has a different keynote frequency from instrument to instrument, thus making it difficult to use with other instruments.

Figure 1: Comparison of the main characters in Ran and King Lear

Ran

Hidetora—the warlord

1st son, Taro (married to Kaéde)

2nd son, Jiro (married to Sué)

3rd son, Saburo

Tango—the loyal servant

Kyoami—the fool

King Lear

King Lear

1st daughter, Goneril (married to Duke of Albany)

2nd daughter, Regan (married to Duke of Cornwall)

3rd daughter, Cordelia

Earl of Kent—the loyal servant

Fool



immediately suggests the film’s strong association to the Noh theater, which in turn evokes a significant aesthetic and philosophical context for the film. Here, the sound of the flute acts as the signifier of this association. In order to understand the meanings of the solo flute music in Ran and its strong association to the Noh theater, I first need to summarize what features are essential to the aesthetics of Noh theater and how they are related to Ran.

Aesthetics of Noh Theater

Noh is a classical stage art in Japan, which consists of literature, music, and dance with mask, developed from a variety of sacred rituals and festival entertainments established during the medieval period (circa AD 1300–1400).11 The highly stylized

11 The information here is derived from Kunio Komparu, The Noh Theater: Principles and Perspectives (New York: Weatherhill/Tankosha, 1983) and Masakazu Yamazaki, On the Art of the No Drama: The Major Treatises of Zeami, trans. J. Thomas Rimer (Princeton, NJ: Princeton university Press, 1984)

elements involved in the performance of a Noh play are: (1) chant-like vocal music; (2) a musical ensemble composed of a flute and three drums; (3) stylized poses, actions, and dances accompanied by vocal music and the ensemble; (4) costumes of robes and masks; and (5) Noh stage. Donald Richie argues that the influence of Noh theater is even more visible in Ran than in Kurosawa’s earlier films, such as The Throne of Blood or Kagemusha.12 In Ran, as in Noh theater, we see the massive bulk of ostentatiously gorgeous costumes, with the arm movement of long-sleeves, and the silk kimonos sliding across the polished wooden floor. The actors’ movements are Noh-like, which is stately, formal, and hieratic.13 Hidetora’s face becomes more like a mask as he becomes progressively more insane. According to James Goodwin, Kurosawa instructed that the makeup on the actor of Hidetora should progress through three phases, with each phase based on specific images in

12 Donald Richie, The Films of Akira Kurosawa (Berkeley: university of California Press, 1998), 217.13 Ibid.

Example 1: Source music for flute played by Tsurumaru

55DEGuCHI


the repertory of Noh masks.14 In the first phase, the makeup is lightest and most natural, suggesting the face of a vigorous, but aged, leader. Later, banishment, anxiety, and exhaustion deeply change Hidetora’s facial expression. For the final stage of terror and madness, Hidetora’s face has turned completely into an unnatural coloration of a mask. Goodwin also explains that Hidetora’s fool Kyoami recites lines from the Noh play Funa Benkei at the exact point when Hidetora sees apparitions of his past victim:

The wonder of it! I see on this withered plain All those I destroyed. A phantom army, one by one they come floating, Rising before me.15

This is the same image that Hidetora saw in his dream when he dozed off after the boar hunt at the beginning of the film. It clearly foretells the fate of the warlord.one of the most important aesthetic concepts in Noh theater is the concept of jo-ha-kyu , a tripartite form that underlies the pace of Ran. Jo means beginning or preparation, ha means breaking, and kyu means rapid or urgent.16 Jo-ha-kyu is derived from the preference for odd numbers, a preference that is strongly cultivated in Japanese aesthetics. A Noh play is normally made up of five sections called dan. The first dan consists of jo, the middle three of ha, and the final dan of kyu . The structure is linked to tempo: the play begins slowly, breaks into faster pace, and builds to a rapid conclusion. The solo flute music in Ran signals the jo-ha-kyu form of the film. The first instance of the solo flute music is heard at the end of the opening credits, and for the next forty-nine minutes there is seldom other music that is significant except for another instance of the distinct solo flute music. In the ha section of Ran, which is signaled by another occurrence of solo flute music, other types of music are heard with more frequency. The kyu section, also signaled by solo flute music, consists of the final five minutes of the film’s duration of two hours and forty minutes, in which the film comes to a rapid conclusion.

14 Goodwin, 206.15 Ibid.16 It should not be assumed, however, that jo-ha-kyu is a straightforward simple three-part form. All three components should be perceived on different hierarchical levels. Within the jo section of the higher level, there is jo-ha-kyu of the lower level. Thus, the concept of jo-ha-kyu governs from the smallest level of rhythmic units to the broadest level of ordering of all the plays that make up a one-day program. Jo-ha-kyu also controls the spatial design in which the plays take place. The principle of jo-ha-kyu applies both to the way in which segments of music and dance are categorized and combined to create a play and to the way the actor modulates the intensity, style, and performance technique within the play.

Moreover, the concept of cyclical time is cited as a distinctive feature of Noh theater, which is exemplified as the arrangement of a five-play cycle of the program of Noh. The fifth Noh play does not mark a final conclusion, but rather a temporary cut off that can be viewed as the beginning of an endless succession. There is a custom of singing “attached felicitations” at the end of the program. As the main character of the last Noh play exits, the chorus chants an excerpt from the Noh play that belongs to the first category. It offers felicitations, but at the same time suggests a cycling on to the first Noh play that will begin the program on another day. In Ran, the percussive sound heard at the beginning of the opening credits serves precisely this purpose by bringing the closing credits to an end. In the same way, the symphonic music that accompanies the battle scene reappears in the closing credits, suggesting the cyclical repetition of events. The pattern of a cycle of Noh plays—from the blessings of a god to the salvation of a demon and then back to the beginning—is an overall configuration that accords with the Buddhist theory of salvation. Noh theater aims to achieve artistic realization by weaving together human acts with the protective power of the gods and the mercy of Buddha. Moreover, the Noh theater reflects the concept of an endless cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. We thus can understand the Noh theater as the helix movement, as the linear movement of jo-ha-kyu is combined with the circular movement of the five plays. In Ran, its music signifies the principle of jo-ha-kyu as a play and as a program.

Solo Flute Music in Ran

The short segments of music played by the solo flute create an intense and dramatic impression in Ran. Music in this film is relatively sparse in its duration of two hours and forty minutes. We hear the short segments of solo flute music, which we later understand as the association with the blind hermit Tsurumaru, sporadically throughout the film. Some instances are longer than others, but the average one lasts approximately twenty-four seconds. The audience hears the solo flute music at critical moments in the film, specifically at each point the status of Hidetora declines. More importantly, it signals the jo-ha-kyu of the film while signifying the relationship between the philosophy that lies behind the film and the Noh theater. (See the summary of the appearances of the solo flute music in Figure 2.)



We hear the music played by the ryuteki first in the opening credits, when Hidetora is at the height of his prosperity (Example 2).17 Following the percussive sound of a Noh instrument, intermingled with the source sound of the clopping of horses’ hooves, the flute music then begins simultaneously with the start of the scene in which men are engaged in wild-boar hunting. We see Hidetora seriously involved in the hunt with a confident look on his face. The high, piercing sound of the flute occurs when the title of the film 乱 (Ran) appears, as if to foretell the tragedy that is to befall Hidetora.18 After Hidetora has transferred his estate to his first son Taro, Hidetora sees his fool Kyoami threatened and shoots one of Taro’s retainers with an arrow. This act by Hidetora invites Taro’s anger (or rather his wife Lady Kaéde’s), which leads to Hidetora’s separation with Taro and the First Castle. At that moment, the second occurrence of the music

17 Score M2 (partial), source number F28f, Documentation Center for Modern Japanese Music, Tokyo.18 Saviour Catania relates the piercing sound of the flute’s hishigi, or high pitches, to the piercing of Hidetora’s heart as “Hidetora has galloped into a nether realm whose unfathomable silence paradoxically deepens with its plangent shrieking.” In his article, he suggests that the hunter becomes the hunted at the very moment he draws the bow, “Hence the timely interruption of the Nohkan hinting by its shriek that Hidetora, even before banishing Saburo, is essentially a Shakespearean beast, must prey on itself, like monsters of the deep.” See Catania.

played by the ryuteki is heard. Tsurumaru’s flute is a metaphor of an arrow, shooting down Hidetora’s fate as a fearless leader at the opening boar hunt (when his arrow is never seen piercing the boar), and also at the scene when Hidetora shoots one of Taro’s retainers, prompting the beginning of his decline. In these acts Tsurumaru’s spirit is present as his will/soul is carried by his identity—his flute. The third occurrence of the music played by the ryuteki is heard when Hidetora leaves the Second Castle in perturbation. He has just given the Second Castle to his second son Jiro. In this scene Hidetora realizes that he has been rejected by both of his sons. He leaves the Second Castle in shock and, for the first time, shows agitation. The flute music in this scene signals the beginning of the ha section of the film. Along with an effectively still shot of the enormous gate and the small figure of Hidetora standing in front, it informs the audience that a new narrative phase has begun, one that coincides with Hidetora’s new state of mind.19 It

19 Takemitsu made use of sound effects that suggest the emotional and mental action of Hidetora. In the scene when Hidetora and his retainers leave the Second Castle, angry and disappointed, they take a rest in the middle of the plain since they have nowhere to go. The sound effect is more or less unnoticeable and sounds somewhat like the wind or shrill insects or birdcalls. When the loyal Tango arrives in front of Hidetora and reveals Taro and Jiro’s scheme to banish their father, this background sound increases

Figure 2: The solo flute music that signals the structure of Ran

The solo flute music First occurrence of other music

Jo section:(1) In the opening: Hidetora at the height of his prosperity (ryūteki) (0:2:19).(2) Hidetora invites the first son Taro’s anger (or rather his wife Kaéde’s anger) leading to his separation with Taro and the First Castle (ryūteki) (0:29:47).

No other significant music

(3) Hidetora leaves the second son’s Second Castle in perturbation. He has been rejected by both of his two older sons (ryūteki) (0:49:17). Ha section begins.(4) Hidetora walks out vacantly from the burning Third Castle as attacked by his two sons. Failed to commit suicide (piccolo, doubled by oboe) (1:13:30).(5) Encounter with Tsurumaru (shinobue) (1:23:58).

Saburo’s leitmotif occurs the first time;•the tragic symphonic music for the battle scene;•emphasized sounds of birds, insects, and winds.•

(6) Lady Sué (second son’s wife, Tsurumaru’s sister) lying on the grass beheaded (shinobue) (2:33:47). Kyu section begins.(7) Tsurumaru is left alone in the ruins of his father’s castle (shinobue) (2:37:47).

57DEGuCHI


is important to understand that until this scene, when Hidetora leaves the Second Castle, there has been almost no background music in the film other than the flute music that is heard when Hidetora shoots Taro’s retainer. up to this scene, Hidetora’s mind is still strong, and he remains determined to hold on to his power. After the flute announces the beginning of the ha section—the section of the breakdown—music is used far more frequently. In the film’s ha section, the music heard includes: Hidetora’s third son Saburo’s leitmotif played by the timpani,20 the tragic symphonic music for the battle scene (which I discuss in detail below), a short appearance of flute music (this time played by piccolo, doubled by oboe) when Hidetora walks out vacantly from the burning Third Castle, and the source flute music played by Tsurumaru (shown in Example 1), revealing that it was he who had never ceased playing the flute. Hereafter the flute music is heard in the scenes that are associated with Tsurumaru. In the ha section, the solo flute music—Tsurumaru—pushes Hidetora to the edge of madness as he is attacked by the armies of his two sons and fails in his attempt to commit suicide. Tsurumaru’s

in intensity and loudness. He is just at the onset of his insanity. The sound that simulates the blowing of the wind is used again when Hidetora and his fool Kyoami are staying in the ruin of Tsurumaru’s destroyed castle. They see Tsurumaru and his sister Lady Sué together standing above. Hidetora, in his disturbed mind, thinks that he is in hell. The high-pitched eerie sonority generates the feeling of anxiety.20 The timpani motive is first used in the scene that shows the Third Castle and Taro’s retainers marching in. This motive is called Saburo-daiko, “Saburo’s drum motive,” and is associated with the third son, since the Third Castle was originally intended to be inherited by Saburo. The second appearance of the Saburo-daiko occurs near the end of the film, when Saburo and his retainer cross the boundary river to save Hidetora. This motive appears more often thereafter, since there are more scenes affiliated with Saburo. Score M20, source number F28f at the Documentation Center for Modern Japanese Music, Tokyo.

performance of his flute, which is heard almost exactly at the midpoint of the film, drives Hidetora completely to the other rim of insanity. The music played by the shinobue, which accompanies the scene where Tsurumaru’s sister (and also the second son’s wife) Lady Sué is shown lying on the grass beheaded, signifies the transition to the kyu section. Lady Sué returns to Tsurumaru’s hut to retrieve the flute he has forgotten, only to be killed on the orders of the first son’s wife, Lady Kaéde. Thereafter, the film moves towards its conclusion with a rapid succession of violent events: the beheading of Lady Kaéde, the attack against the second son Jiro’s army by Ayabe’s army (his heretofore enemy), the anticipated fall of the Ichimonji clan, and the solemn procession of warriors carrying the bodies of Hidetora and Saburo.21 In the closing scene, as Tsurumaru is left alone in the ruins of his father’s castle, he stumbles at the edge of the top of the stone wall. At the same moment, the music played by the shinobue starts for the last time (Example 3).22 Tsurumaru then accidentally drops the scroll of Buddha, causing the scroll to open. The camera shows a close-up of the picture of Buddha, and then shows Tsurumaru on the ruin’s wall, gradually backing up, showing his silhouette against the darkening sky. The film ends with the piercing high note of the flute. Throughout Ran it becomes obvious that the solo flute is associated with Tsurumaru’s soul and emotions. The androgynous figure of Tsurumaru refers to the Noh theater as well, for it resembles the

21 This scene is accompanied by the Mahler-like music as well, which I will address later.22 Score M28, source number F28f at the Documentation Center for Modern Japanese Music, Tokyo.

Example 2: Music at the opening boar hunt



ghost figure from the Noh play. It is interesting to compare the two most powerful characters in Ran, Tsurumaru and the first son’s wife Lady Kaéde, for music never accompanies Lady Kaéde’s presence. Lady Kaéde is a vengeful woman, who talks, acts, and manipulates whomever she wishes. Her intentions and goals are self evident, and as a character she defines herself only by words and actions. Thus she has no need for music to speak for or about her. In sharp contrast, Tsurumaru lives as a hermit, and his only pleasure in life is to play the flute. on the surface he is resigned to his tragic situation, although he fully expresses his sorrow and his hatred toward Hidetora through his flute playing. Among the seven occurrences of the solo flute music, the first three are played by the ryuteki. Since the ryuteki is generally considered to have deeper sounds and a more solemn timbre than the shinobue, I suspect that, in order to suggest that Hidetora’s mind is still robust, the sound of the ryuteki is used in the first three instances of the solo flute music. one of the major differences between Western and Japanese instruments is the preference for certain tone qualities. As Western instruments were developed, a removal in extraneous noise in the production of sound was encouraged. In contrast, Japanese instruments focused more strongly on the quality of individual instrumental sounds, and noise in the production of sound was preserved and enhanced as a means of expression. The sounds produced are thus complex and intricate. Takemitsu states that, “The sounds of

Japanese instruments are produced spontaneously in performances. A single strum of the strings or even one pluck is too complex, the sound is so strong that it can stand alone.”23 In the musical examples, asterisks indicate particular pitched notes that are accompanied by a noticeable breath-like sound. Also, there are many pitches with microtonal bends immediately before or after the pitch is produced, simulating a human cry or wailing. The sound of Japanese instruments will differ from performer to performer, and even from performance to performance by the same player. Perhaps this aspect is one reason why the sound of the solo flute in Ran seems to be connected to a personal level and conveys more private emotions to express the true feelings of the performer. The melodies of the solo flute music are never the same, although some melodic fragments share notable similarities. Some examples include the following: distinctive rapid figures that ascend from a lower pitch level, arriving at a note of longer duration (indicated with brackets above the staff); reiterations of notes of longer durations, at many times preceded by various kinds of rapid figures (indicated with brackets below the staff); and many leaps within the melodic line. of course, the unique timbre of the traditional flute and the breath-like sound of exhaling when arriving at and coming out of the tone add to the sense of similarity between different melodies. Hidekazu Yoshida

23 Toru Takemitsu, trans. Yoshiko Kakudo and Glenn Glasow, Confronting Silence: Selected Writings (Berkeley: Fallen Leaf Press, 1995), 9.

Example 3: Music at the closing scene

59DEGuCHI


describes the following impression of the music of the three-string Japanese instrument the shamisen:

The music seems to be made up of the repetition of the same thing; however, it changes gradually, moving forward accordingly. Then in the next moment, suddenly it seems to return to an earlier moment. It is hard to tell if it has shape or not. Rather, it is music that from time to time expands or contracts and that keeps our attention by gradually transforming its form and color. The parts of music are interchangeable, and it is possible to start anywhere and end anywhere. It is essentially different from Western music, whose parts or sections have their definite formal position.24

This principal is what Fumio Hayasaka calls an “eternal form,”25 in which each part does not have a clear boundary or frame but happens continuously, and could be replaced in any order and could start and end in any place.26 Japanese music lacks a long-range design, motivic and thematic development, and melodic goals, which are all prominent in the melodic lines in Western classical music. Japanese music emphasizes focusing on one sound at a time, which forces listeners to appreciate the music at that moment. Finding gratification in “moment to moment” is quintessential in Japanese traditional music. This preference for “moment in music” is demonstrated by the non-teleological nature in the solo flute writing, and also is associated with the Japanese Buddhist doctrine. In the next section, I discuss the strong underlying implication of Buddhism in Ran and its comparison to King Lear.

Buddhism as the Film’s Background Philosophy and King Lear

As in the last scene with the open scroll of Buddha, there is a strong suggestion of Buddhism displayed many times during the course of the film. In contrast to King Lear, the philosophical background of Ran clearly derives primarily from a Buddhist perspective. Most of all, the film strongly engages the Buddhist view of the world as cyclical and transitory, and, of course, the allusions to Noh theater strongly reinforce that Buddhist perspective. What I sense lying in the background of Ran is the mujo as “nothing is permanent,” which differs remarkably from the

24 Shinji Saito and Maki Takemitsu, eds., Takemitsu Toru no Sekai (The world of Toru Takemitsu) (Tokyo: Shueisha, 1997), 129. My translation.25 Ibid., 84.26 I write about the similar linear construction of music in one of Takemitsu’s piano pieces, Piano Distance, in my unpublished article.

generative concept of “nothingness” in King Lear. In contrast, Ran’s impermanence is a cyclical element, implying the reiteration of history always confined by repetitions and recurring points of origin. At the turning points in the Japanese Middle Ages, the Buddhist masters emphasized the human passions of greed and desire. According to Shinran, a renowned medieval monk, sin is essential to man; it is deeply rooted in human existence and we in fact cannot avoid committing sins. The same grief is expressed by the last remark of Tango, who states, when facing the deaths of Saburo and Hidetora: “Do not blaspheme! It is the gods who weep. They see us killing each other over and over since time began. They can’t save us from ourselves.”27 At this moment the radiant sun, the symbol of Hidetora, starts to set over the ruin of the castle, which Hidetora had previously destroyed. The deaths of all family members in Ran and the implied narrative that one clan falls and a new clan rises, suggesting the repetition of history, are, I think, what overwhelms the audience. In the Buddhist perspective, nothing in the world remains permanent, and humankind is only one mere element in the universe. If we feel a deep emotion toward the notion of vicissitudes, it comes from the same aesthetic partiality toward impermanence, a sense that anyone, regardless of power or prosperity, will eventually perish in the flow of time. Thus, the perspective of time in Ran is cyclical, but does not repeat exactly, moving in a spiral motion. In marked contrast to Ran, Shakespeare’s King Lear addresses the notion of “nothingness” in a distinctively dissimilar sense. Shakespeare’s language possesses abundant connotations, and the word “nothing” is rich in subtle implications. Lear asks his daughters to express the amount of love they feel toward him in exchange for a part of his kingdom. Cordelia, for whom love takes place only through lived action, could only remain silent or answer “nothing,” signifying that there is no answer to that question. However, for Lear, this was the worst possible answer. He fails to see the difference between silence and saying “nothing,” and in an outburst of rage he states, “Nothing will come out of nothing,” and subsequently banishes Cordelia.28 At the outset of King Lear, by showing the King’s violent explosion of rage, Shakespeare invokes a furious, barbaric pagan god. However, as the play draws to a conclusion, there are intimations of the

27 Goodwin, 215.28 Brian Rotman, Signifying Nothing: The Semiotics of Zero (Stanford, CA: Stanford university Press, 1993), 80-81. Also see David Willbern, Poetic Will: Shakespeare and the Play of Language (Philadelphia: university of Pennsylvania Press, 1997).



Christian notion of God. John Holloway shows that the movement of King Lear, especially from act 4 to the end, parallels the movement of the old Testament book of Job, especially in regards to the notion of repeated suffering.29 William Elton points out that the most recent interpretations of King Lear have a tendency to identify it as a “Christian” play.30 He quotes from R. W. Chambers’ attempt to portray the play as “a poem on the victory of true love” through the redemption of Lear. Furthermore, many critics envision Cordelia in the part of Christ and see Lear as being improved or regenerated. John M. Lothian argues that “the ‘spire of meaning’ in this play is the spiritual history of the regeneration of King Lear. . .”31 Resembling Mary and Jesus, Lear holding Cordelia dead suggests a view of possible resurrection. By implying hope, improvement, and cause and effect, King Lear thus suggests or invokes the Western perspective of linear time moving in one direction. However, it does not mean that the Japanese have no hope in their phenomenal world. While accepting the cyclical transmigration between rokudo, “six basic modes of being, as human as one of them,” according to one’s karma, in the medieval period theories of salvation proliferated, contributing to the possibility of optimism and hope.32 The Japanese seem to have evaded the pessimistic notion implicit in impermanence by pursuing the pleasure of “now” in the ukiyo, “a floating world.”33 Japanese Buddhism thus emphasized the prominence of the phenomenal world, in contrast to the Indian Buddhist’s reaction to the world of change, which is to reject it in favor of an ultimate reality, a transcendent Absolute in which the mind can find refuge. on the contrary, the Japanese reaction is to accept, even to welcome, the fluidity and impermanence of the phenomenal world as the ultimate reality.34 The “now” becomes the absolute, and every moment becomes self-contained. In every moment only the “present” exists. It is in the same sense that we appreciate the intricate and complex sound of that particular moment of Japanese music.

29 John Holloway, The Story of the Night: Studies in Shakespeare’s Major Tragedies (Lincoln: university of Nebraska Press, 1961), 89; quoted in Jay L. Halio, The Tragedy of King Lear (New York: Cambridge university Press, 1992), 12, n. 7.30 William R. Elton, King Lear and the Gods (San Marino, CA: The Huntington Library, 1966), 3. Despite the popular approach to King Lear as an optimistically Christian drama, he concludes in his book, Cordelia represents a more virtuous pagan, whose virtues approach the Christian ideal but are not identical with it.31 John Maule Lothian, King Lear: A Tragic Reading of Life (Toronto: Folcroft Library Editions, 1949), 27; quoted in Elton, 4, n. 5.32 William R. LaFleur, The Karma of Words: Buddhism and the Literary Arts in Medieval Japan (Berkeley: university of California Press, 1983), 49.33 Ibid., 54.34 Hajime Nakamura, A History of the Development of Japanese Thought: From A.D. 592 to 1868 (Tokyo: Kokusai Bunka Shinkokai, 1969), 93.

Takemitsu expresses this notion eloquently in Ran, with the non-teleological nature of the flute music and with the concentration of the single pitch, which is reiterated differently each time they are produced, thus demanding the listener to appreciate that particular sound at that moment.

The Symphonic Adagio: Hell’s Picture Scroll

In Kurosawa’s writings, he clearly indicates an awareness of the vulnerable existence of humankind, as viewed from above. Kurosawa explains that the source sound of the battle scene at the Third Castle was completely absent because, “[i]n eliminating the sounds from the scene of battle I wanted to indicate that the perspective was that of the heavens.”35 Kurosawa instead commissioned Takemitsu to compose orchestral music to accompany this magnificent scene of battlefield between Hidetora’s retainers and his two sons’ armies. Takemitsu and other writers have commented on the background story of Kurosawa’s fixation on Mahler’s Symphony no. 1 and The Song of the Earth at that time. After much debate and argument between the composer and the director, the result was a Mahler-inspired symphonic adagio named Hell’s Picture Scroll.36 In this scene, the source sounds, such as people screaming and running, pounding horses’ hooves, and the shooting of arrows, are completely erased when the music begins. It is a long battle scene that continues until Hidetora’s forces are completely destroyed. The symphonic music, almost seven minutes long, stops and the source sound returns when the first son Taro is shot by the second son Jiro’s retainer. Although the symphonic adagio uses the instrumentation of the typical Romantic-era orchestra, it curiously conveys the sense of cyclicality and stasis. This is mostly due to the short fragments of melodic lines that do not have cadential goals and do not develop motivically; however, the melodic writings of the symphonic music are reminiscent of Mahler.

35 Goodwin, 211.36 Score M13/M29, source number F28f at the Documentation Center for Modern Japanese Music, Tokyo. Takemitsu commented during a conversation with Masahiro Shinoda that “I (Takemitsu) suggested that Kurosawa use Mahler’s No. 1 instead of requesting me to compose for the scene. His (Kurosawa’s) response was that I write something better than Mahler.” See Takashi Funayama, Takemitsu Toru: Hibiki no umi e (Toru Takemitsu: Towards the sea of sound) (Tokyo: ongakunotomosha, 1998), 206. Also see Hiroyuki Iwaki, Sakkyokuka Takemitsu Toru to ningen, Mayuzumi Toshiro (A composer Toru Takemitsu and a person Toshiro Mayuzumi) (Tokyo: Rengashoboushinsho, 1999), 34 and Kawade Michino Techo, Takemitsu Toru: Botsugo 10nen, Narihibiku Ongaku (Toru Takemutsu: 10 years after his death, resounding music) (Tokyo: Kawadeshoboshinsha, 2006), 86.

61DEGuCHI


The opening melody, heard in the woodwinds of the symphonic adagio, is an altered quotation of the opening oboe melody from the sixth movement of the Song of the Earth, “Farewell.” Takemitsu pays homage to Mahler again at the scene of the funeral procession for Hidetora and Saburo, by using similar melodic material from the third movement of Mahler’s Symphony no. 1. However, the harmonic language is more akin to the two Western composers that most influenced Takemitsu, Messiaen and Debussy. The sense of stasis is particularly conveyed by the repeating two-bar motive (Example 4) that alternates with sections that feature thinner textures and solo melodies in the woodwinds. The melodic line in this poignant motive moves in parallel motion with two lower lines at the intervals of a perfect twelfth and a minor sixth. The sextuplet anacrusis that precedes the motive is made of alternating minor and major triads (D major, G♯ minor, F major, G♯ minor, F major, G♯ minor). This anacrusis consists of seven pitches from one of the octatonic collections {0, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 11} (Messiaen’s Mode II of his Modes of Limited Transpositions).37 The harmony that consists of the pitch-class set {2, 6, 9, 10, 11} (root position minor seventh chord with added major seventh above the root) that accompanies this motive is a subset of Messiaen’s Mode III {1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11}, again showing an influence from Messiaen’s harmonic language. This chord descends by a semitone in parallel motion at the beginning of the following measure. With the persistent strict parallel motion in this motive, unmistakably demonstrating Takemitsu’s influence from Debussy, the musical motion projects stasis, and the ending of the motive clearly indicates inconclusiveness. This motive occurs five times throughout the battle scene, all but one are at the same pitch level. (It is transposed a semitone higher in the second occurrence.) The cyclical recurrence of this motive without resolution also symbolizes the perspective of time in Ran as cyclical. It alludes to the cyclical recurrences of the battle between human beings. The length of this scene and the muted sounds connote timelessness, suggesting that the battle is being gazed upon from the heavens on a cosmic level. When all the source sounds disappear and only the music remains, the sense of reality suddenly fades. The scene loses the emotional connection to the audience, placing distance between the audience and the on-screen action. The action of the warriors seems to

37 Takemitsu utilizes octatonic collections and Messiaen’s other Modes of Limited Transposition as a source for pitch material in many of his compositions.

proceed in slow motion, and the whole image appears to turn into a dream or an illusion. This technique seems to be more universal, since it is used for similar effects in other Western films such as in Apocalypse Now (1979), Platoon (1986), and Kingdom of Heaven (2005).38 In Apocalypse Now only the symphonic music can be heard during the scene in which the local Vietnamese tribe in the deep jungle is chanting and dancing to the rhythm of the drums. Then the tribe members start to kneel at the emergence of their new demigod, Captain Willard, who has just assassinated Colonel Kurtz. The source sound is totally mute in this scene. In Platoon Barber’s Adagio for Strings is heard against the muted source sound in the famous scene in which Elias is shot and falls with his arms extended towards the sky. Also, toward the end of the film, Chris Taylor looks down at the battlefield in Vietnam as he is carried away in a helicopter to be treated for his wounds. While Adagio for Strings is again used for this scene, only the faint helicopter sound remains. In Kingdom of Heaven a camera shot looking directly down captures the final battle scene as Saladin’s army breaches the walls of Jerusalem. Shown in slow motion, the source sound is almost completely silenced. The technique becomes a trope that captures the painfulness of human actions that cannot be controlled by individuals. In these scenes the emotions or the intentions of the individuals are moot, but instead the actions (or, in the case of Platoon, the result of the actions) seem to be controlled and viewed by a higher force. In these three films, the durations of these scenes are relatively short (only a couple of minutes before some of the source sounds start to return in Apocalypse Now, and less than one minute in Platoon and Kingdom of Heaven); however, Takemitsu’s symphonic adagio continues for almost seven minutes. The duration of the symphonic adagio with the muted war sounds amplify the magnitude of the helplessness of human nature. In Ran the symphonic adagio suggests the endless repetition of history by portraying the endless battles between clans and, more generally, between human beings. When the sound of the first son being shot from behind is heard and seen, the viewers are finally taken back to reality. The image of the gaze of the heavens is further expressed in the scroll containing an icon of the Buddha Amida, and the radiant sun is portrayed in the background. Hidetora’s royal emblem is a radiant sun against a black background. The image of the sun setting in the horizon is explicit in the meeting of

38 I am grateful to Robert Hatten and Scott Murphy for their suggestions about these films.



Example 4: Repeating two-bar motive in the symphonic Adagio (with anacrusis)

63DEGuCHI


Hidetora and Lady Sué at the ramparts of the Second Castle. To further suggest the declining status of Hidetora, the image of the sun shading the cloud is depicted in the battle scene, just when two of his older sons betray their father. The same symphonic adagio is used near the ending of the film, when Ayabe’s army (another family clan seeking an opportunity to expand its land and power) attacks the First Castle. The return of the symphonic adagio during the final credits once again suggests the repetitive battles among human beings, as gazed upon from above. Finally, the faint percussive sound of the Noh instruments at the end of the credits brings the viewers back to the beginning of the opening credits, where the same percussive sounds were used. The music comes to signify, then, the same cyclical perspective of time that is portrayed in Noh theater. The reappearing percussive sound is not identical to the music from the jo section, or the felicitous kind of music as in Noh theater; however, it implies the same quality of endlessness and cyclical repetition.

Conclusion

At first glance, the solo flute music and the symphonic music seem to represent entirely different ideas; however, they are intricately related among the web of other important factors of the film. The short melodies of the solo flute music concentrate focus on the sound of the immediate moment and signify an individual. When the flute is heard played by Tsurumaru at the midpoint of the film, the audience retrospectively understands that the music expresses Tsurumaru’s inner emotion. on the other hand, the lengthy symphonic adagio that occurs with the battle scene (and at the ending credits, implying the battle scene) is at the opposite end of the spectrum. By incorporating the more commonly used sonority of the orchestra, the imagery of the gaze from above is more universal, lamenting the demise of the individuals and the ephemeral existence of humankind as a whole. However, these distinctions are not mere typology since both Takemitsu’s music for the solo flute and the symphonic adagio are intricately correlated with the Buddhist view of the world as cyclical. The non-developmental style of flute music alludes to Noh theater, which provides the perspective of the Buddhist doctrine of cyclicality. The quality of the harmonic language and the recurrences of the short melodic fragments in the symphonic adagio also imply cyclical repetitions. In this way, the film score links all the elements of this film: the flute music and Noh theater;

the Noh theater developed under Buddhist doctrine; and Buddhism, cyclical time, and impermanence—all elements that strongly contrast with King Lear, from which Kurosawa adopted the narrative of Ran. However, the features of these two types of music that lie at the opposite ends do suggest two hidden central characters of the film. Via the solo flute music, only Tsurumaru’s emotion is carried throughout the film. The realization that the player of the solo flute was Tsurumaru reveals that his feeling of resentment towards Hidetora was present from the beginning of the film and recontextualizes the meaning of the solo flute music. For Tsurumaru the sole entertainment is his disguised grudge, and for Hidetora it signifies him as a ghost from the past. Hidetora is completely overwhelmed by the emotions Tsurumaru asserts through his flute playing. The listeners sympathize with Tsurumaru, with all the others who fell because of Hidetora and with all who cannot let go of a grudge. And it is this sound that haunts Hidetora in the boar hunt at the beginning of the film and that haunts the worldly realm at the film’s conclusion. In addition, the occurrences of the solo flute music frame the film’s form of jo-ha-kyu , as Kurosawa chronicles the declining status of Hidetora. In stark contrast to the solo flute music signifying individual emotions, the tragic symphonic adagio signifies the existence of an omnipresence above and its gaze, eloquently symbolizing the endless repetition of the history of human struggles as individuals remain oblivious. All individuals in the family die (even the death of Tsurumaru is implied at the end, for he will not survive alone at the ruins); however, this fact is impartial to the eyes of the gods. Perhaps the listeners agonize over this sense of separation from reality and the impermanence of the present state. Even though Ran is staged in the medieval period in Japan under the influence of Japanese Buddhism, the detachment from the violence on the battlefield as perceived as the gaze from the heavens might perhaps be a valid implication that the symphonic adagio depicts a folly of warfare that still continues in modern days. The opposing roles between the two types of music result from the subjective and individualized conveyance of emotions in the flute music as opposed to the collective emotional reaction to the cyclical nature of human strife represented by the symphonic music.



References

Catania, Saviour. 2006. Wailing woodwind wild: The noh transcription of Shakespeare’s silent sounds in Kurosawa’s Ran. Literature/Film Quarterly 34, no. 2: 85-92.

Elton, William R. 1966. King Lear and the gods. San Marino, CA: The Huntington Library.

Funayama, Takashi. 1989. Takemitsu Toru: Hibiki no umi e (Toru Takemitsu: Towards the sea of sound). Tokyo: ongakunotomosha.

Goodwin, James. 1994. Akira Kurosawa and intertextual cinema. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins university Press.

Halio, Jay L. 1992. The tragedy of King Lear. New York: Cambridge university Press.

Holloway, John. 1961. The story of the night: Studies in Shakespeare’s major tragedies. Lincoln: university of Nebraska Press.

Iwaki, Hiroyuki. 1999. Sakkyokuka, Takemitsu Toru to ningen, Mayuzumi Toshiro (A composer Toru Takemitsu and a person Toshiro Mayuzumi). Tokyo: Rengashoboushinsho.

Kawade Michino Techo. 2006. Takemitsu Toru: Botsugo 10nen, narihibiku ongaku (Toru Takemiutsu: 10 years after his death, resounding music). Tokyo: Kawadeshoboshinsha.

Komparu, Kunio. 1983. The noh theater: Principles and perspectives. New York: Weatherhill/Tankosha.

Kurosawa, Akira. 1985. Ran, DVD. Paris: Greenwich Film Production.

LaFleur, William R. 1983. The karma of words: Buddhism and the literary arts in medieval Japan. Berkeley: university of California Press.

Lothian, John Maule. 1949. King Lear: A tragic reading of life. Toronto: Folcroft Library Editions.

Mack, Maynard. 1965. King Lear in our time. Berkeley: university of California Press.

Nakamura, Hajime. 1969. A history of the development of Japanese thought: From A.D. 592 to 1868. Tokyo: Kokusai Bunka Shinkokai.

Richie, Donald. 1998. The films of Akira Kurosawa. Berkeley: university of California Press.

Rotman, Brian. 1993. Signifying nothing: The semiotics of zero. Stanford, CA: Stanford university Press.

Saito, Shinji and Maki Takemitsu, eds. 1997. Takemitsu Toru no sekai (The world of Toru Takemitsu). Tokyo: Shueisha.

Takemitsu, Toru. 1995. Confronting silence: Selected writings, trans. Yoshiko Kakudo and Glenn Glasow. Berkeley: Fallen Leaf Press.

Willbern, David. 1997. Poetic Will: Shakespeare and the play of language. Philadelphia: university of Pennsylvania Press.

Yamazaki, Masakazu. 1984. On the art of the no drama: The major treatises of Zeami, trans. J. Thomas Rimer. Princeton, NJ: Princeton university Press.

Zwerin, Charlotte. 1994. Music for the movies: Toru Takemitsu, DVD. West Long Beach, NJ: Kultur.

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.

gaze from the heavens, ghost from the past

Documents

types of music

type of music

symphonic music

toru takemitsus music

solo flute music

akira kurosawas film

innovative use of music

takemitsus film score