Chapter 167: Eiji Kurosawa’s Magnanimity! 《seven Samurai》’s Epoch-making Acclaim!
In the early morning, as the mist of Tokyo was torn apart by the first rays of sunlight, scattering upon the city’s texture, countless newspapers, like scattered seeds, took root and sprouted in the streets and alleys, on the edges of coffee shop tables, and by the handrails of trains, quickly blooming into flowers named “miracle.”
The front-page headline of the Film Report, with an almost epic brushstroke, declared the end of one era and the beginning of another:
“Seven Samurai: A cinematic revolution, a spiritual baptism. It is born from samurai films, yet transcends them. Previous samurai films were merely kendo films; this is the true samurai film!”
The author of this article was Kenta Tanaka.
With an unprecedentedly passionate pen, he peeled this work, Seven Samurai, away from the traditional cinematic scope, imbuing it with deeper cultural and philosophical meaning.
He wrote: “We once thought samurai films were merely bloody battles of clashing swords, the settling of grievances with swift revenge. However, Hiroshi Nohara and Eiji Kurosawa, with Seven Samurai, revealed to us the true essence of Bushido: it is not a constraint of status, nor the finesse of swordsmanship, but the unyielding will, the compassionate sentiment for humanity, the responsibility to charge forward even when facing thousands, when confronting the flood of the era and the destiny of class!”
The Asahi Shimbun, from a broader perspective, discussed how Seven Samurai reshaped the national spirit:
“Seven Samurai: A hymn to humanity amidst the torrent of the era! With the tragic and heroic fate of seven samurai, it reflects our nation’s struggle and transformation throughout history. Those farmers, once considered ‘commoners,’ through their cunning and resilience, ultimately became masters of the new era. And those samurai, who once represented glory and order, were mercilessly crushed under the rolling wheels of time. This is not a simple victory or defeat; it is historical inevitability, and more importantly, a profound reflection on our own destiny!”
Even Shukan Bunshun and FRIDAY, publications usually only interested in celebrity gossip, unusually reined in their sharp tongues, and with a hesitant yet undeniable acknowledgment, elevated Seven Samurai to the divine:
“The birth of a miracle! Hiroshi Nohara’s ‘Easter egg’ is not a jest, but the ultimate pursuit of cinematic art! With the profound meaning of Seven Samurai, he has given us a philosophical lesson on ‘class’ and ‘era’! We once doubted his ‘betrayal of roots,’ mocked him for being an ‘elitist,’ but now, we must admit, he is the one who truly understood our nation, truly understood our era, and perfectly presented it through film, the true genius!”
These film reviews, like sparks igniting a prairie fire, rapidly set the entire Neon society ablaze.
People began to re-examine Seven Samurai, and reconsider what Hiroshi Nohara had said at the press conference.
Hearts that were once blinded by “class conflict” were gradually shaken by the grand narrative of “era” and “humanity” through the film’s baptism.
Some daring film critics even made a completely new division of samurai films in Neon cinema history.
They defined samurai films before Seven Samurai as “kendo films of the pre-Eiji Kurosawa era.” While those films had brilliant fight choreography, they ultimately remained at the level of “technique,” failing to touch the essence of “way.”
Only samurai films made after Seven Samurai, shot with a grander historical perspective, deserved the title “samurai film.”
They even praised Director Eiji Kurosawa without reservation, stating that after a decade of silence, he had once again reached new heights, achieving an unprecedented realm.
This evaluation undoubtedly propelled Eiji Kurosawa back to the divine, and made Seven Samurai an insurmountable milestone of the era!
Since the release of Seven Samurai, everyone has been praising Eiji Kurosawa and marveling at the master’s touch.
Public opinion directly elevated Eiji Kurosawa to the divine!
…
On the seventeenth floor of the Tokyo Television Station, in Asumi’s office.
Sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the entire office with brightness. Yet, the atmosphere within the office at this moment was even hotter and more joyous than the sunlight.
Asumi sat behind his desk, holding a freshly delivered newspaper, an uncontrollable ecstasy on his face.
Across from him, Director Kurosawa sat on the sofa, also perusing a newspaper, though his face bore a complex expression.
“Hahahaha! Director Kurosawa! Look! Look at this newspaper!”
Asumi’s voice trembled with excitement: “That old fellow Kenta Tanaka actually praised your Seven Samurai as a ‘miracle’! And said that after a decade of silence, you’ve reached new heights again! This… this is truly unprecedented praise!”
Director Kurosawa merely snorted and said nothing.
He turned the newspaper in his hand to the next page, where a passage of effusive praise was printed: “Director Eiji Kurosawa, with his profound directorial skill, perfectly brought Mr. Hiroshi Nohara’s epoch-making script to the screen. With cinematic language, he wove the grandeur of ‘era’ and the insignificance of ‘humanity’ into a tragic yet powerful epic. This is enough to prove that old ginger is spicier; Director Kurosawa’s artistic life is endless!”
As he looked at this praise, a bitter smile flickered across his old face, which was always filled with pride and stubbornness.
“Miracle? New heights?” Director Kurosawa gently placed the newspaper on the desk, his voice tinged with self-mockery: “They’ve attributed all the credit to this old fellow. They didn’t mention at all who the true soul and true creator of this film is.”
Asumi heard this and was slightly taken aback.
He looked at Director Kurosawa, a flash of understanding in his eyes.
“Director Kurosawa, are you speaking up for Hiroshi-kun?”
Asumi chuckled, shook his head, and shrugged kindly: “You’re worrying too much. Hiroshi-kun has always respected you. He knows that your contribution to this film is no less than anyone else’s. Moreover, what he needs most right now is this ‘official certification’ from you. With a ‘living legend’ like yourself endorsing him, his status and reputation can reach unprecedented heights in the shortest possible time. So, please don’t overthink it. Anyway, he won’t care about these empty honors.”
“Empty honors?” Director Kurosawa slammed his hand on the table, the loud sound making the teacup tremble!
His weathered old face was now filled with undisguised fury: “Asumi! Do you think I, Eiji Kurosawa, am the kind of despicable scoundrel who would steal others’ credit?! I’ve spent my entire life making films; I’ve never bowed to anyone, never compromised with any capital! I, Eiji Kurosawa, will only let my work speak for itself! I never steal others’ credit, and I will certainly not let a young man bear undeserved blame!”
Asumi looked at Director Kurosawa’s flushed face; all smiles had faded from his eyes, replaced by a deep sense of helplessness.
He knew Director Kurosawa was truly angry.
He knew this old man’s stubborn temper, harder than a samurai sword, would never change in his lifetime.
“Director Kurosawa, please don’t get agitated,” Asumi sighed, his voice tinged with bitterness: “I understand what you mean. You want to hold a press conference and personally clarify with the media, returning all the glory to Hiroshi-kun, right?”
“That’s right,” Director Kurosawa nodded heavily.
“But…”
Asumi’s voice grew heavier: “Have you considered that if you hold a press conference, all of your own glory from a lifetime will become a wedding dress for Hiroshi Nohara? You will personally hand over the title of ‘Master of Samurai Films’ that you painstakingly built over half a century to someone else. At that time, how will those fans who once worshipped you as a deity, those colleagues who followed you for half their lives, view you? They will think you’ve gone senile, that you’ve been completely deceived by a young man!”
“I don’t care,” Director Kurosawa’s voice was calm, without the slightest ripple.
He slowly stood up, walked to the window, and calmly gazed out at the Steel City, which was gradually awakening in the dawn.
“They are right,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of imperceptible desolation, yet containing a sense of complete purification and release: “What I made before were indeed just kendo films filled with fighting. I thought I had exhausted the glory and tragedy of samurai. But until I saw Mr. Nohara’s script, until I saw the ‘samurai’ under his lens…”
He paused, and a light that could convince anyone shone in his sharp eyes.
“I realized that I, Eiji Kurosawa, throughout my life, only filmed the ‘form’ of the samurai. And Hiroshi Nohara, he is the one who truly understood the ‘soul’ of the samurai!”
“With Seven Samurai, he revealed to us the true essence of Bushido: it is not a constraint of status, nor the finesse of swordsmanship, but the unyielding will, the compassionate sentiment for humanity, the responsibility to charge forward even when facing thousands! He is the true Father of Samurai Films!”
Director Kurosawa’s voice grew more passionate.
“Since the era has chosen Hiroshi Nohara, then I, Eiji Kurosawa, choose to acknowledge him. I choose to pave the path to the ‘divine’ for this young man! I choose to let my name become the final stepping stone for Hiroshi Nohara’s ascent to the throne!”
Asumi stood there, stunned.
He looked at the old man, whose weathered face was now filled with openness and pride, like an unyielding mountain.
He finally understood.
Eiji Kurosawa had not gone senile.
Nor had he been deceived by Hiroshi Nohara.
He had simply, with the purest posture of an artist, with the most noble soul, embraced the true “miracle” that belonged to the new era!
He was, in his own way, offering his last and greatest gift to that young man, to that new era!
“Good!” Asumi took a deep breath, all doubt and worry vanishing from his eyes, replaced by sincere admiration and… respect.
He bowed deeply to Director Kurosawa.
“Director Kurosawa, I understand,” Asumi’s voice trembled slightly, yet was filled with strength: “Rest assured. I will arrange it for you. I will let everyone know that Eiji Kurosawa, you are the one who truly surpassed the era, surpassed yourself, and offered the greatest work to our nation, the true… master!”
Director Kurosawa merely smiled, saying nothing.
He turned around and cast his gaze once more upon the Steel City, gradually awakening in the dawn.
He knew that a new storm was about to break.
And he, Eiji Kurosawa, would witness, as an observer, the ultimate arrival of that new era, belonging solely to Hiroshi Nohara!
…
In the office of Hiroshi Nohara’s Independent Production Department, outside the window lay the deep azure of Tokyo Bay, reflecting the icy steel and concrete of the city skyline.
However, this urban sense of alienation did not intrude upon this small space, ignited by creativity and passion.
Sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, gently spreading across the rosewood desk, gilding the piles of manuscripts.
The air was filled with the hustle and refinement characteristic of this era.
Hiroshi Nohara sat behind his desk, his pen flowing like a river of light and shadow, constructing one marvelous miniature universe after another on the snow-white drawing paper.
Without looking up, he lightly tapped his fingers, distributing perfected rough drafts, along with detailed storyboards, precise lighting layouts, and even meticulous camera work, to the three capable subordinates sitting attentively and solemnly before him.
“Section Chief Hashishita, these are the follow-up storyboards for the fifth season of ‘An Shizhi’.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s voice was calm: “The core of the fifth season lies in the ultimate depiction of ‘everyday horror.’ We don’t need to pursue gore; we only need to present the eeriness hidden in the cracks of the city in a way that is closest to life. The lighting should be oppressive, the colors cold, and every character’s gaze should betray that numbness and despair of being eroded by an unseen force. Remember, true terror often comes from within, not from outward appearances.”
Ichiro Hashishita took the thick stack of manuscripts, his hands trembling slightly.
He looked at the exquisitely crafted storyboards, each angle, each composition, like the sharpest scalpel, precisely dissecting the deepest fears in the human heart.
He knew this would be another season, a “masterpiece” that would make all late-night animation enthusiasts wake up in their dreams.
“Department Head, I understand!” Ichiro Hashishita’s voice was filled with uncontrollable excitement as he bowed deeply: “I guarantee that I will lead all colleagues in the animation classroom to perfectly present your every creative idea on screen!”
“Mm, very good.”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded, turning his gaze to Tsuyoshi Yamamoto: “Section Chief Yamamoto, this is the final draft for the third season of ‘World of the Strange’.”
He pushed another equally detailed manuscript towards Tsuyoshi Yamamoto: “For the third season, we need to integrate more satire and reflection on social phenomena, building upon the ‘urban legend universe.’ For example, this episode, ‘Electronic Product Dependence,’ not only illustrates the dangers of electronic product addiction but also explores the loneliness and alienation of modern people caught in the torrent of information. In terms of light and shadow, we should boldly use cool and warm contrasts to create a surreal sense of illusion. For the music, we need to emphasize the icy coldness and alienation characteristic of technology, allowing the audience to feel a deep sense of helplessness while watching.”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto took the manuscript; his face, always cold and chiseled like a carving, now bore suppressed shock.
He looked at the futuristic scene designs on the manuscript, the precise capture of human weaknesses, and the profound insights into social issues. He felt that Hiroshi Nohara’s talent had long surpassed the simple category of “producer,” resembling more a thinker who used light and shadow as his brush and the era as his paper.
“Department Head, your concept is simply… divine inspiration!” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto’s voice trembled slightly. He could guarantee that the third season of ‘World of the Strange’ would once again spark a nationwide discussion on “urban legends.”
Finally, Hiroshi Nohara’s gaze fell upon Kei Tanaka.
“Section Chief Tanaka, these are the flow and details for the grand finale of the second season of ‘Super Change Change Change’.”
He handed the last manuscript to Kei Tanaka, a faint smile appearing on his face: “For the grand finale, we don’t want simple humor; we want every contestant to showcase their most genuine and moving side on stage. The lighting should be warm, the music rousing, and the transitions between each segment should be as perfect as possible. We want the audience to feel warmth amidst laughter and experience hope within emotion. This is the true core of our ‘Super Change Change Change’.”
Kei Tanaka took the manuscript; his face, already somewhat serious, was now filled with suppressed excitement.
He looked at the detail designs filled with human touch on the manuscript, the respect and care for the dreams of “ordinary people.”
The reason Hiroshi Nohara’s programs became “national masterpieces” was not just their creativity, but also their profound understanding and compassionate sentiment towards humanity.
“Department Head, I understand!” Kei Tanaka’s voice was so excited it became somewhat incoherent.
He knew that the ratings for the grand finale would undoubtedly break records again.
The three section chiefs stood there, looking at the manuscripts in their hands, as if they weighed a thousand pounds.
They looked at the young man, who remained calmly seated behind his desk, as if he had done nothing more than an ordinary task, and a surge of inexpressible emotion rose in their hearts.
“Department Head…” Ichiro Hashishita spoke first, his voice filled with sincere admiration: “Your mind is simply… superhuman! Whether it’s horror, fantasy, or warmth, you can handle it with ease, and every detail is considered so thoroughly, so exquisitely! We… we are truly far behind!”
“Yes!” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto nodded heavily, his face filled with admiration: “Every one of your creative ideas is like a lightning bolt that cuts through the darkness, instantly illuminating our path forward. Following you, we feel as if we have also touched the true meaning of art.”
“And most importantly!” Kei Tanaka was so excited his face turned red: “Department Head, every piece of guidance you give is not just a technical improvement, but a spiritual baptism! You teach us that making programs is not just about ratings, but about spreading warmth and awakening hearts!”
“Don’t say such cheesy things,” Hiroshi Nohara just smiled.
However, he also understood.
These three capable subordinates had now been thoroughly subdued by him, becoming the most solid foundation of his cultural empire.
Just then, Kei Tanaka seemed to remember something. He took out several newspapers from his briefcase, his face filled with excitement.
“Right, Department Head! Look at these newspapers! The entire Neon is going crazy for your Seven Samurai right now!”
He spread the newspapers on the desk and pointed to the prominent headline on the front page, his voice filled with excitement: “Look! That old fellow Kenta Tanaka of the Film Report actually praised your Seven Samurai as a ‘miracle’! He even said it ‘is born from samurai films, yet transcends them. Previous samurai films were merely kendo films; this is the true samurai film’!”
“That’s right!” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto chimed in, his face filled with pride: “Now all film critics are using ‘way’ and ‘technique’ to describe your film! They say that previous samurai films only stayed at the level of ‘technique,’ only knowing how to wield swords and fight. But your Seven Samurai touched the ‘way’ of Bushido, touched the ‘way’ of the era, touched the ‘way’ of humanity!”
“Even those third-rate entertainment tabloids are praising you!” Ichiro Hashishita also interjected: “They say that you redefined the samurai film in Neon cinema history! They even classified all samurai films before Seven Samurai as ‘kendo films of the pre-Eiji Kurosawa era,’ and only films after Seven Samurai deserve the title ‘samurai film’!”
Hiroshi Nohara’s brow furrowed subtly at this.
He put down his brush, and a hint of inquiry flashed in his clear eyes.
“Oh?” His voice was calm: “Is that what they said? ‘Kendo films of the pre-Eiji Kurosawa era’? How exactly is this division explained?”
The three exchanged glances, seeing a flicker of excited understanding in each other’s eyes.
They knew the Department Head was interested in these comments.
“It’s like this, Department Head,” Kei Tanaka quickly explained: “They say that Director Kurosawa’s previous works, while featuring exciting fight choreography, ultimately remained at the level of ‘technique’ and failed to touch the essence of ‘way.’ But your Seven Samurai, with its grander historical perspective and deeper human analysis, elevated Bushido to an unprecedented philosophical height. Therefore, they believe that only your Seven Samurai deserves the title ‘samurai film’.”
“Moreover, they also said that after a decade of silence, Director Kurosawa has once again reached new heights, achieving an unprecedented realm. This evaluation undoubtedly propelled Director Kurosawa back to the divine, and made Seven Samurai an insurmountable milestone of the era!” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto added, his tone filled with admiration for Eiji Kurosawa.
Ichiro Hashishita nodded along, a hint of confusion on his face: “The entire Neon is now praising Director Kurosawa, saying he’s still sharp and is the true Father of Samurai Films. But… Department Head, don’t you think this statement is a bit… a bit wrong?”
As soon as he finished speaking, Kei Tanaka and Tsuyoshi Yamamoto’s expressions also faltered slightly.
They too realized something.
“Yes…” Kei Tanaka’s voice was hesitant: “If we divide it this way, wouldn’t it be demeaning Director Kurosawa’s previous works? And… and we all know that this Seven Samurai is actually… the Department Head’s work.”
Tsuyoshi Yamamoto nodded in agreement, his face showing worry: “Department Head, public opinion is praising Director Kurosawa too highly now. We’re all worried that he might… might steal your credit because of this, or… or become jealous of you and cause some unpleasantness. After all, you’re still young, and if there’s any conflict, you’ll be at a disadvantage.”
The three looked at Hiroshi Nohara, their eyes filled with concern and worry.
They knew that although Hiroshi Nohara was exceptionally talented, he was still young and lacked seniority.
Eiji Kurosawa, on the other hand, was a titan of the Neon film industry. If he were to claim credit or harbor resentment towards Hiroshi Nohara, it would undoubtedly be a huge disaster for Hiroshi Nohara.
However, upon hearing this, Hiroshi Nohara merely waved his hand gently.
“You are worrying too much.”
His voice was calm: “I trust Director Kurosawa. He is not the type of person to steal credit, nor is he someone who would be jealous of a junior. He is a true artist, a pure filmmaker who deserves the respect of all of us.”
He paused, and a look of respect flashed in his clear eyes.
“Moreover, you are right. The statement ‘kendo films of the pre-Eiji Kurosawa era’ is indeed exaggerated and somewhat inappropriate.”
Hiroshi Nohara’s voice carried a hint of self-mockery: “Director Kurosawa’s previous samurai films, while focusing on swordplay, were also filled with contemplation of humanity and insight into the era. They are indelible classics in Neon cinema history, true works of art. To belittle them as ‘kendo films,’ or even to step on them to highlight Seven Samurai, is a great humiliation to Director Kurosawa.”
“Kendo itself is a part of Bushido, a concretization of the samurai spirit. How can we deny the value of ‘technique’ for the sake of so-called ‘way’?”
Hiroshi Nohara shook his head, a faint self-deprecating smile appearing on his face: “This practice of praising one while denigrating another is something these media outlets deliberately do to create buzz and attract attention. We cannot let them lead us by the nose.”
“So, you don’t need to worry.”
Hiroshi Nohara looked at the three, a gentle smile reappearing on his face: “As for those empty honors, I don’t care. As long as Seven Samurai can be seen by more people and inspire more people to think about ‘era’ and ‘humanity,’ that is enough.”
The three fell silent upon hearing this.
They looked at Hiroshi Nohara’s calm eyes, and their already wavering hearts became firm once more.
This youth, yet not arrogant.
Possessing a broad mind without jealousy.
Willing to share credit with everyone instead of hoarding it for himself.
This was already the demeanor of a king!
‘Ding-dong—’
Just then, the office door was gently knocked.
Yō Kitagawa entered, her always sparkling big eyes filled with irrepressible ecstasy, and a radiant smile on her face.
“Department Head! Department Head! Big news! Tremendous news!”
Her voice trembled slightly with excitement as she waved a freshly printed box office report and rushed to Hiroshi Nohara’s desk.
“Seven Samurai! The latest box office for our Seven Samurai—”
She took a deep breath and shouted in a voice that could make the entire Neon film industry tremble, the number that would shake the entire Neon film industry!
“—has broken through the 1 billion Yen mark!”
“Boom—!”
The office erupted!
One billion Yen?!
Kei Tanaka, Tsuyoshi Yamamoto, and Ichiro Hashishita, the three section chiefs who had just been marveling at Hiroshi Nohara’s magnanimity, stood there stunned, their faces filled with incredulous shock!
After all, it had only been less than a week since Seven Samurai was released!
“A miracle… this is simply a miracle!” Kei Tanaka was so excited he was speechless, he didn’t even know what words to use to describe his feelings at that moment. He instinctively bowed deeply to Hiroshi Nohara: “Department Head! You… you’ve created another miracle!”
“Congratulations, Department Head!” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto and Ichiro Hashishita also bent down and bowed excitedly, their voices filled with absolute trust and fanaticism towards Hiroshi Nohara’s god-like abilities!
A heartfelt smile finally appeared on Hiroshi Nohara’s face. He knew this was just the beginning.
“Not bad,” Hiroshi Nohara nodded calmly, his clear eyes shimmering with longing for the future.
He knew that the box office for 《Seven Samurai》 would certainly continue to climb at an astonishing speed in the coming days, even weeks!
“With this momentum!” Kei Tanaka’s voice trembled with excitement, “The final box office for 《Seven Samurai》 will definitely break the 5 billion yen mark! It might even… it might even challenge the box office records of those Hollywood blockbusters!”
“That’s right!” Tsuyoshi Yamamoto also nodded heavily, his face full of pride.
This was not an exaggeration.
It was a fact.
Because the release dates for movies in Japan are usually three months.
Now, in just one week, it’s already one billion.
Then, in the remaining three months, is reaching 5 billion yen still a delusion?!
This is a goal worth pursuing!
Ichiro Hashishita chimed in with excitement on his face, “Department Head! You’ve created another miracle! Can we prepare the celebration banquet in advance?!”
“There will definitely be a celebration banquet!” Everyone laughed cheerfully upon hearing this.
“A celebration banquet will be prepared, but not now,” Hiroshi Nohara leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face. “Don’t pop champagne halfway through. Everyone stay calm; there are many more miracles waiting for us.”
