Chapter 158: The Intent And Depth Of 《seven Samurai》! Near The Level Of The Dao!
In this deliberation room symbolizing the highest authority of the Neon film industry, Sakata-sama’s words instantly stirred up a colossal wave!
“Huh?!”
“What… what kind of joke is this?!”
“Director Kurosawa, are… are you serious?”
After a brief silence, a murmur filled with absurdity and doubt spread among the well-dressed committee members, like a lit fuse, refusing to die down.
Or rather, these committee members were unwilling, and even afraid, to believe what Eiji Kurosawa had said!
They were like a congregation who had seen a deity descend to earth, yet claimed to be mere mortal followers, their faces now showing nothing but undisguised doubt.
“A greenhorn who makes variety shows?” a seemingly young committee member, known in the industry as a “newcomer,” said without mercy, “Does he even know what film art is?”
“Exactly!”
Another committee member, with graying hair and known in the industry as “conservative,” couldn’t help but let out a snort of disdain from his nose, “Director Kurosawa, we respect you as a senior and a master. But you can’t… joke around with us like this, can you? This young man, at most, offered you some immature little suggestions. We understand you want to protect your juniors and help them. But to say this movie was made by him… that’s simply laughable!”
These words echoed the sentiments of everyone present.
They would rather believe that Eiji Kurosawa was using a form of black humor to express his admiration for this young man than to believe that a samurai epic, which would leave a significant mark in the history of Neon cinema, could possibly come from the hands of an amateur who hadn’t even produced a decent film!
It defied logic! Even more so, it defied the industry’s ironclad rules of “seniority” and “experience” that they, the “insiders,” had upheld for decades!
Yes! They had heard of Hiroshi Nohara’s name!
Very talented!
Full of ideas!
Worthy of affirmation and praise!
However, that was, after all, genius in animated films, television dramas, and variety shows, ideas, affirmation, and praise!
Not movies!
However, amidst this clamor filled with doubt and disdain, Fujiwara-sama, who had been quietly sitting in the corner as if detached from it all, slowly spoke again.
“Everyone, quiet down,” Hideaki Fujiwara said.
Everyone subconsciously fell silent, and their gazes, filled with uncertain astonishment, focused uniformly on this man who truly held the destiny of them all.
Hideaki Fujiwara ignored them.
He slowly stood up and walked to the large screen, on which the final images of the film still lingered.
His gaze calmly swept over the fields filled with tragedy and satire, over the three lonely graves with samurai swords planted in them, and finally, settled on the three samurai who had survived but seemed to have lost everything.
“Do you think this movie is just about a simple story of samurai saving farmers?”
His voice was plain, yet like the sharpest scalpel, it precisely dissected the seemingly simple surface of the story.
Exposing its cruel core, filled with class conflict and human struggle, nakedly before everyone!
“You saw the samurai’s ‘benevolence,’ their ‘courage,’ their ‘loyalty and honor.’ But did you, understand the ‘evil’ of the farmers?”
He slowly turned around, his calm eyes like two bottomless ancient wells.
The corners of his mouth curled into an icy arc, and he clearly uttered, word by word, the subversive lines that had long been etched into his mind.
“What do you think farmers are? Do you think they are Bodhisattvas?”
“…What a joke. Farmers are the most cunning. They won’t give you rice when you ask, and when you ask for wheat, they say they have none. But they have everything; they have everything. Look under the floorboards, or in the storage room, you’ll find plenty of things, rice, salt, beans, sake… Go deep into the valleys, and you’ll find hidden rice fields!”
“They are outwardly honest but the best liars. They will lie about anything! When war breaks out, they kill the wounded and steal weapons. Listen, farmers are the stingiest, most cunning, cowardly, malicious, incompetent, murderers!”
“But, who made them this way?”
“It’s you, it’s you samurai! You all go and die! You burn villages for war, ravage fields, exploit labor at will, rape women, kill those who resist. What do you expect farmers to do? What should they do!”
These dialectical and satirical arguments struck everyone present like a thunderbolt!
The deliberation room fell into a deathly silence once more.
The committee members, who moments before were filled with a sense of superiority, now had faces etched with shock and astonishment!
These lines were brilliant!
So good!
So spectacular!
But precisely because of this, their gaze towards Hiroshi Nohara became even more suspicious. How could such a young man…
Come up with such lines.
How could he make…
Such a brilliant movie!?
However, Hideaki Fujiwara’s words were far from over.
“Do you understand why four of the Seven Samurai died and three survived?”
His voice calmly rang out again.
“The four who died represent the complete bankruptcy of the traditional Bushido spirit. And the three who survived represent the true tragic core of this story.”
“Kanbei’s disillusionment, Shichiroji’s compromise, Katsushiro’s integration… This is, truly, a tragic and profound elegy sung for the demise of a class!”
“This intent, this scope, this precise insight into the tragic fate that has long been ingrained in the bones of our nation…”
Hideaki Fujiwara slowly walked back to his seat, a look of emotion appearing in his calm eyes.
And a hint of fatigue.
Especially looking at his old friend, his friend whom he had known for over thirty years, he slowly made his evaluation, “These are indeed not things that Director Kurosawa, who is confined to samurai narratives, is good at.”
“…”
Eiji Kurosawa’s body trembled violently!
He slowly raised his head, all expression gone from his face, leaving only bitterness and… relief.
“Fujiwara-sama is correct.”
He let out a long sigh, as if releasing half a lifetime of pride and stubbornness with that breath.
He looked at the committee members, who were already in a state of panic from his words, and for the first time, a self-mocking smile appeared on his face, usually filled with aloofness and obstinacy.
“I, Eiji Kurosawa, have spent my life filming samurai. I thought I had captured all their glory, their heroism, their helplessness. But today, after reading the story written by Nohara-kun, I realized…”
He paused, his voice carrying a newfound, heartfelt respect.
“…What I filmed were merely childish plays, full of fighting and feuds, that couldn’t even stand on their own two feet.”
“And he…”
Eiji Kurosawa turned his head and fixed his gaze on the young man who had been calmly sipping tea the entire time.
“He is the one who truly understood ‘samurai’ and also understood the deeply ingrained tragic fate of our nation.”
“So, I will say it again.”
Eiji Kurosawa slowly opened his mouth, “This 《Seven Samurai》, from beginning to end, is his work, Hiroshi Nohara’s, alone!”
This declaration, full of frankness and pride, was like the most resounding slap, brutally striking the face of every committee member still clinging to hope!
They stared blankly at Eiji Kurosawa.
Their minds were a blank slate.
Their thoughts felt utterly absurd, and they were truly speechless, their lips trembling.
Such a perfect samurai film, and it was really made by this young man!
“Alright.”
Fujiwara-sama watched it all calmly, a genuine smile on his face.
He slowly picked up the red seal symbolizing “approval” from the table and heavily stamped it on the review document that everyone had overlooked!
“《Seven Samurai》, approved unanimously.”
His voice was plain, yet it was like a divine decree spanning heaven and earth, bringing a perfect conclusion to this dramatically charged deliberation meeting.
“Unrestricted public screening. Furthermore, I will recommend this work, in the name of Eirin, to next year’s Neon Film Festival.”
Fujiwara-sama’s calm eyes, like ancient wells, reflected the young man’s handsome and serene face.
“Nohara-kun, I eagerly anticipate you bringing a new storm to our country, which has been dormant for too long.”
“Just like… 《Super Change Change Change》!”
This was no longer simple regard.
This was a monumental expectation, almost like a “national policy”!
……
By the time Hiroshi Nohara and Eiji Kurosawa walked out of the gray building, filled with oppression and power, dusk had fallen.
The afterglow of the setting sun, like molten golden honey, stretched their shadows long on the cold cement ground, creating a sense of temporal overlap.
“Hoo—”
Eiji Kurosawa let out a long sigh, as if releasing half a lifetime of stubbornness with that breath.
He turned his head and looked at the young man beside him, who was as calm and collected as if he had just attended a casual tea party. A bitter smile, a mix of amusement and disbelief, appeared on his weather-beaten face.
“Nohara-kun, do you know?” he said softly, “It’s a good thing I’m about to retire, otherwise, my old bones might lose their livelihood to you.”
The self-deprecating joke broke the tense atmosphere.
“Director Kurosawa, you are too kind.” Hiroshi Nohara smiled, his eyes showing genuine respect for the master, “You are a master who created an era, and I am merely… a lucky person who stood on the shoulders of a giant and chanced upon a farther view.”
This was the truth.
After all, Hiroshi Nohara was from the Japan of his previous life as a plagiarist.
It was equivalent to standing on the shoulders of a parallel world’s Japan, which was naturally stronger than Eiji Kurosawa, who had to struggle alone in this world.
However, Eiji Kurosawa heard this and took it as Hiroshi Nohara’s humility.
He was stunned for a moment.
Then, he burst into a hearty laugh that he had suppressed for too long.
“Hahaha! Good! Well said, ‘lucky person’!”
He patted Hiroshi Nohara’s shoulder heavily, all the desolation gone from his eyes, leaving only excitement.
“Let’s go, Nohara-kun! To celebrate today’s approval, I’ll treat you to drinks! We’ll go to Ginza, drink the finest sake, and eat the best wagyu beef! Today, this old man will drink with you until we can’t drink anymore!”
“Okay.” Hiroshi Nohara agreed with a smile.
One old, one young.
The atmosphere was extremely harmonious!
……
A black business car, like a ghost, silently slipped into the vast underground parking lot of Tokyo Television Station as the streetlights were just beginning to come on.
Many people were still working overtime in the Production Bureau Headquarters Building.
The elevator door opened with a “ding.”
Two figures, one old and one young, stumbled out, supporting each other.
The overwhelming smell of alcohol, like an invisible biochemical weapon, instantly spread from the two of them throughout the entire floor.
“Hic—!”
Eiji Kurosawa, the master revered as a “living legend” in the Neon film industry, was now like an ordinary drunken uncle.
His face was flushed, and his eyes were unfocused.
One hand still held a now-empty sake bottle proudly, while the other was heavily placed on the young man’s shoulder beside him, mumbling a long-outdated song.
Hiroshi Nohara was not much better off.
His already simple casual wear was crumpled, and the iconic gentle smile on his face now had a touch of childish silliness due to the alcohol.
Although he could still maintain a semblance of sobriety, his slightly swaying body had already given away the fact that he was also not a good drinker.
This scene, full of the implication of “social unqualifiedness,” instantly sent ripples of shock and confusion throughout the entire Production Bureau Headquarters Building.
“Hey… who are those two people?”
A young intern who had just graduated from Waseda University, with the purest dream for the television industry, looked at the two figures exuding “broadcast accident” vibes and instinctively lowered his voice, asking his companion in a tone of disgust.
“At work hours, to be this drunk? This is simply… a disgrace to our television station!”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
Another newly hired girl also frowned, “I heard that the Production Bureau has strict hierarchies and many rules. How can there be such… people who lack the most basic professional ethics? Are they relatives of some high-ranking official?”
Whispers filled with a sense of justice quickly emerged.
However, before their “judgment” filled with a sense of superiority could end, a sigh filled with weariness and resignation came from behind them without warning.
“Alas… you young people are still too green.”
The speaker was a senior director, nearing fifty, with hair already showing signs of gray.
Holding a cup of coffee, he leaned against the wall, glancing at the two “justice seekers” who didn’t know the immensity of heaven and earth, and said helplessly, “Do you know? The ‘guy without professional ethics’ you’re talking about, the old man who can’t even walk steadily because he’s so drunk, is Eiji Kurosawa.”
“Kurosawa… Eiji?” the young intern blinked in surprise, and then, a look of unbelievable horror flashed across his student-like face!
“Could it be… could it be the legendary… Director Kurosawa, who made countless samurai films and the 《Samurai Series Classic Trilogy》?”
“Otherwise?” the old director pouted, his gaze as if looking at two country bumpkins who had never seen the world. “In the entire Production Bureau, besides him, who else would dare to get this drunk on Director Sakata’s turf?”
“Then… then who is the young man next to him?” the girl’s voice trembled.
To be personally supported by such an important figure as Director Kurosawa, and to appear so intimately like “friends across generations,” the young man’s identity must be…
“Him?”
Hearing this, the old director’s expression became even stranger, a complex mixture of awe, envy, and a hint of imperceptible jealousy.
He took a deep breath and slowly uttered the name that was now like a deity throughout Tokyo Television.
“He is the only living legend in our building.”
“The monster who turned the entire Neon television industry upside down with three works—”
“Hiroshi Nohara.”
“…”
The entire world seemed to have been muted.
The two young people, who moments before were filled with a sense of justice, stood frozen in place.
Then, they both nodded in agreement and said:
“Then it’s alright…”
……
“Outrageous! Simply outrageous!”
However, in Asumi’s office, the Deputy Director, who could make any producer tremble outside, was pacing back and forth in front of the large rosewood desk, hands on his hips.
His face was filled with the helplessness of being unable to help someone who wouldn’t try harder.
“Look! Look! The two of you, one is the pillar of our Kanto Faction, the other is the future hope of our Kanto Faction! And now look at you, both drunk as mud! If Takada, that old fox, were to see this, tomorrow the entire Production Bureau’s notice board would be plastered with disciplinary notices about your ‘drunken misconduct’!”
He pointed at the two “culprits” who had already collapsed like salted fish on his expensive leather sofa, his voice filled with suppressed fury.
However, this scolding, filled with “motherly” concern, was only met with a burst of hearty and disdainful laughter.
“Hahahaha! Disciplinary notices? I, Eiji Kurosawa, have made movies my whole life, what kind of criticism haven’t I seen?!”
Eiji Kurosawa staggered to sit up on the sofa. He grabbed the mineral water from the table and gulped down two large mouthfuls straight from the bottle. His flushed old face recovered quite a bit.
“Asumi! Stop putting on that Deputy Director airs with me! I’m telling you, today, I’m happy! I’ve never been this happy in my life!”
“Worst case scenario, you can dock my pay!”
“You—!” Asumi was so provoked by this remark that blood rushed to his head, and he almost spat out a mouthful of old blood.
Dock his pay?
He wished he could! But did he dare?!
Let alone him being just a Deputy Director, even if Nobuhiko Sakata himself came, he would have to be courteous and respectfully call this old stubborn fellow, who had already achieved fame and had one foot in the “temple of art,” “Director Kurosawa”!
Don’t think Neon lacks human relations.
The intricacies within.
There are many!
So, Asumi helplessly turned his gaze to the young person who had been grinning foolishly from beginning to end and seemed to have some sense.
