Shakespeare, Kurosawa and the Spider Webs of the Heart

A military leader and his friend withstand the invasion of a rival kingdom. Their king summons the heroes to his castle to reward them. En route, the warriors meet an ominous spirit who predicts their twofold fates: advancement and eventual kingship for both families. Shortly thereafter, each receives the first slice of his prophesied fruits, so the two begin to consider the promised second portions. If the spirit spoke truly, do I to wait for my fate to arrive or do I pursue it myself? With these thoughts, the leader returns to his wife, who pressures him to kill for the crown. His choices lead to blood and disaster.

This summary outlines the plot of Throne of Blood, by Akira Kurosawa, and if it sounds familiar, it's because the film depicts an adaptation of Macbeth by William Shakespeare. While the majority of adaptations flounder in relationship to their source, Throne of Blood prospers: the film maintains the spirit of Macbeth and at the same time achieves its own distinct form. Most of the changes to the play result necessarily, from the decision to transfer Shakespeare to a Japanese setting. Instead of eleventh century Scotland, the film occurs in medieval Japan of the late 1400s. Obviously, the names of people and places have to change; Washizu is the Macbeth figure and Asaji is his diabolic lady (who seems to move like an upright snake when she goes to retrieve a sleeping potion). Also, Kurosawa reduces the three witches to a single spirit. And instead of a specific country, the kingdom Washizu overtakes seems to be known as the Spider's Web.

One of the deliberate changes—which Stephen Prince points out in his helpful essay, "Shakespeare Transposed"—is the use of Noh Theater traditions. The Noh style originated in Japan, first appearing on its stages in the fourteenth century; three of its essential elements are music, masks, and stylized performances. About the last feature, its peculiar acting style, he says more: "Noh performance is a striking blend of stillness and agitation." This explains why characters in a Kurosawa film often behave wildly, exaggerating gestures and facial expressions. (Watch, for example, how the messenger knocks on the castle gate.) The style values physicality above language. Whereas Shakespeare reveals internal states through poetic language, Kurosawa conveys them through physical expression. Instead of realism, he aims at expressionism; instead of memorable individuals, he pursues universal types.

Aside from context, the lack of Shakespeare's language marks the greatest difference between Macbeth and Throne of Blood. Kurosawa replaces it with the poetry of his camera, and cinematic metaphor appears in the various representations of circles. Round shapes often hang on helmets: the great lord carries a nearly full circle, and Washizu wears a half moon—and these sizes seem consistent with rank. Another example occurs before Washizu and Miki engaged the spirit in the forest; it sits in a hovel and spins a wheel while it sings of the violence men circulate. Then before the final passage of the movie begins, guards outside the city gates exchange conversation in two circular rounds: each speaks in turn as the discussion rotates counter-clockwise, and each speaks again as their dialogue reverses into a full clockwise revolution.

The circles imply a cyclicality of rising and falling, a visual theme that compliments the content of Throne of Blood. Two odd-seeming scenes clarify its meaning. After Washizu receives his first promotion, peasant workers outside his new home remark, "Life can always be improved." A similar scene, and the same line, occurs in a lookout tower, after Washizu advances to the Spider's Web Castle. The line implies that even the lowest in society look for their opportunity to profit. Asaji tells her husband: "Did not the great lord secure his own position murdering his predecessor?" Washizu chooses to follow this example, to sustain the violent circle. Unlike Macbeth, Throne of Blood needs no hero to duel its villain, there is no Macduff to challenge the usurper and right his wrongs. Everyone has a death arrow to offer Washizu—every heart contains the capacity to murder. Perhaps the tragedy of Throne of Blood is that "humans are terrified to look into their own hearts." Watching Washizu choose the evil over the good of his heart discourages the audience from indulging its own.