Seven Samurai review – a humanistic masterpiece that defined the modern epic

War and suffering are an eternal presence in life. Akira Kurosawa’s oeuvre reflects such a profound notion and his filmography possesses a deeply humane quality that has allowed his movies to endure. It's also why his 1954 masterpiece Seven Samurai, which at its time of release marked the Japanese director's return to the world cinema stage after his Venice award-winning film Rashomon, has come to define the modern epic.

Opening with ominous rhythmic drum beats, Fumio Hayasaka’s stirring music foregrounds the forbidding sense of dread in the political landscape of the film. Set in 16th century Japan during the Sengoku era, Japan is ruled by bandits who are sweeping the countryside, stealing and killing farmers in their wake. Desperate for survival, the inhabitants of one village hire the titular warriors to protect them from any invaders.

Bringing together the titular group is the noble fighter Kambei, portrayed by Takashi Shimura, a figurehead of all that made the samurai such a famous fighting force. Other notable characters in the line-up include Toshirô Mifune’s Kikuchiyo, Seiji Miyaguchi’s Kyuzo and Isao Kimura’s novice Okamoto. While all serving to drive the action forward, they also reflect three vital key parts of the warrior’s ethos, also known as bushidō: loyalty, martial arts, and frugality.

The juxtaposition between Kambei and Kikuchiyo is used to create some of Kurosawa’s most defining images. The raw physicality that Mifune possesses is a stark contrast from that of Shimura’s more thoughtful and pensive presence, as the former’s ability to convey the most impassioned of emotions whilst still projecting a notable tenderness plays with stoic notions of the warrior. Elsewhere, the other actors' skilled, nuanced performances inject the film with its unmistakable sense of humanity.

Across three hours of filmmaking, Kurosawa and his director of photography Asakazu Nakai palace the camera at the forefront of movement, with exaggerated blocking to build a world of distinctive visuals. Permitting takes to run long with numerous actors flowing in and out of the frame, the camera has a breezy quality that moves with its own intentions, thus capturing collectives of people coming together. Adding to this layered design is the practical use of slow motion to create fragility around human life, notably deployed as Kyuzo is forced into a sword fight with an over-enthusiastic citizen, the camera lingering on the moment with real pathos.

Within the now infamous final battle sequence rests a great focus on the movement of nature, ranging from wind to rain – tangible elements that imbue these scenes with further character and a sensual nature. The torrential rain that submerges the battle is a visceral experience that demonstrates the hardships of war, no matter the scale. Gales sweep over the village, too, adding a tempestuously theatrical layer to the action, which itself generates swirling layers of dust.

Such elements combine with the film’s final lines of dialogue, reflecting the forgotten histories of battle and the samurai themselves. For Kurosawa and his warriors, history will only remember their valour and not their suffering or deaths. Ultimately, a life led by the sword and away from a defined master leads to little beyond glory for others. The film’s themes on war, aggression, and community still resonate in the current context, as Kurosawa offers up a harmonious blend of character and action that is genuinely timeless.

Seven Samurai is now showing in select UK cinemas.