For about as long as artists have been crafting works, there has been a belief that the pinnacle of dramatic expression is the plays and poems of William Shakespeare, a man whose very name evokes the image of quality, artistic integrity and history-defining creativity. Very few writers have been able to see their work not only fondly remembered centuries after their deaths, but also be viewed as the gold standard for the medium, and considering how we receive countless projects that use his work as inspiration – either as direct adaptations or merely riffing on the themes contained in his plays – proves the timelessness of his work. Shakespeare transcends geographical and generational boundaries, and while there are many a high school student who groan at the idea of engaging with his work in the classroom (one of the greatest injustices to his incredible plays is the overuse of them in education, since they have developed a reputation for being stuffy and rigid, which could not be further from the truth), actually looking at the quality of his compositions makes it very clear that he was nothing short of a genius. In terms of film, there is certainly no shortage of directors who have been inspired by his plays, one of which is Akira Kurosawa, who adapted quite a few of his plays, albeit in his own unique way. One of the arguably most effective and well-known is Throne of Blood (Japanese: 蜘蛛巣城), in which the esteemed auteur transposes the plot of Macbeth from medieval Scotland to feudal Japan, using Shakespeare’s astonishing tale of greed, the lust for power and the descent into madness to comment on a very particular era in the past, an oddly fitting combination of themes and ideas that have made this one of Kurosawa’s most innovative and daring works, and a film that has constantly been cited as amongst his greatest achievements. A fascinating blend of ideas that sees Kurosawa once again capturing the spirit of the past in a dedicated and provocative way, Throne of Blood remains a masterful adaptation of an iconic text and a terrific entry into the director’s brilliant body of work.

Regardless of the medium, there are generally two categories of Shakespearean adaptation – those that are faithful to the time and setting and those that adapt the works to a particular time and place entirely divorced from where the original text was set, but which still honour the general themes. There is often a belief with any kind of literary adaptation that shifting its setting is seen as a betrayal of the original work, almost as if it is a sign of a lack of willingness or skill to work within the confines of where the original story was set. Kurosawa’s work is a perfect example of how this is not the case at all – in fact, there is something to be said about adaptations that adapt a work to an entirely different milieu and era being more challenging, since it not only requires working with these complex themes, but also interweaving them with new concepts, which is not always an easy task. As the first of three clear adaptations of the Bard’s work (followed by The Bad Sleep Well and Ran, which were based on Hamlet and Ran respectively), the film is a fascinating voyage into the past, using the structure of Macbeth to explore the dynamics present during the feudal era, where Japan employed a very unique political system, and where the power balance was quite distinct and complex, even more than we observe in contemporary politics. A good adaptation of any work – not only Shakespeare – should be able to extract the core themes and apply them to any scenario, and considering these works were written on subjects that were broad enough to be resonant in any situation, it’s not surprising they have been the inspiration for countless brilliant works. The lust for power and influence has always been relevant, and the extent to which prospective leaders can be driven to madness in the pursuit of power is something that Kurosawa seamlessly weaves into this film, which proves to be an oddly engaging work in terms of how it handles most of its core themes, taking Shakespeare’s timeless story and using it to provide context into Japan’s past.

Despite the change in setting, Throne of Blood is a relatively faithful adaptation of Macbeth, and therefore there isn’t much that can be said about the plot itself or its themes, since there are no shortage of insightful critical works that look at these fundamental concepts (Hamlet remains the most widely-discussed work of literature in history), and its almost foolish to even think that something new can be said about their work. However, where Throne of Blood differs – and therefore warrants our attention – are in the tangible qualities that are used to construct this film, Central to the success of the film is the lead performance, in which we see yet another remarkable collaboration between the director and Toshiro Mifune, his most frequent collaborator and the person with whom he had a symbiotic artistic relationship, the pair emerging as major talents in their respective fields at the same time, bringing visibility to the other as they rose in esteem over the years. Mifune was one of the most versatile actors of his generation, and his chameleonic ability to disappear into any role, to the point where he often became entirely unrecognisable (both physically and in terms of personality), is an immense credit to his skill, as well as Kurosawa’s willingness to allow Mifune free rein to create these unconventional characters. The core of the film is built around his construction of Macbeth – here renamed as Taketoki Washizu – as an even more grotesque, volatile and power-hungry opportunist, as well as someone whose profound insecurity and deep fear of losing whatever grasp on power he has is the reason for his eventual downfall. He’s joined by a terrific supporting cast, with the highlight amongst them being Isuzu Yamada, who is this film’s version of Lady Macbeth, and who I am ready to officially declare the most chilling, terrifying version of the character ever committed to film. Cold, calculating and emotionless, she quietly asserts her power throughout the film, which evokes an abundance of interesting commentary on gender dynamics and the role of women in Japanese society, which can be its own extensive discussion in itself. The performances that anchor Throne of Blood are tremendous.

The element that ties everything together and makes Throne of Blood so dynamic and daring is primarily Kurosawa’s direction. No one needs to be reminded of his genius nor his skill, but even those who are entirely familiar with his work and his style of directing will be entranced by some of the decisions he makes in this film, not only in terms of the narrative but also the execution of its core themes. The director doesn’t take the opportunity to make a more free-form adaptation of Macbeth solelyin terms of the setting, since this could have been a very stiff and didactic recounting of its plot, just in an entirely different setting. Instead, he crafts an engaging and daring work that can stand independent of the original text based purely on some of the stylistic choices, which entirely divorces this film from any of the other films made at the time. Taking his cue from the jidaigeki genre, which were these large, sprawling historical epics made in Japan throughout the 20th century, Kurosawa fashions Throne of Blood into a bleak and uncompromising drama that is as visually striking as it is intellectually stimulating – the framing of every scene creates a sense of unease, with the juxtaposition of perfect symmetry in some moments with more chaotic, frantic framing in others being incredibly compelling and unique, and giving this film a distinct appearance. This is immensely helped by the tone, with the entire film being shrouded in this dense, sinister tone. This is a very entertaining film, but one that still evokes a sense of unease and despair throughout, with the density of the themes at the heart of the film manifesting through some of the directorial flourishes present throughout. It says something about the brilliance of this film that there are scenes that are shown independently and entirely out of context as examples of directorial skill – the closing moments where the main character is bombarded with flurries of arrows is maybe the best-directed scene of Kurosawa’s entire career, both for its simplicity in concept and effectiveness in execution – and the entire film is filled to the brim with such moments, making it very clear why Throne of Blood is considered one of his greatest achivements in both form and content.

Several decades since its release, Throne of Blood remains a steadfast achievement widely considered a timeless masterpiece by several generations of viewers. There are moments throughout this film that are understandably considered the most remarkable and engaging in the history of Japanese cinema, which is only a testament to Kurosawa’s skill as a director, since it is very rarely cited as his defining work (although it is still one of his most popular, being eclipsed by works like Seven Samurai and the aforementioned Ran, which also possess similar merits), and remains a cherished example of his astonishing ingenuity and directorial prowess. There is certainly an argument to be made that this is the finest adaptation of Macbeth ever committed to film, at least in terms of the core themes – the setting may change, but it is in this transition that we become truly aware of the universal ideas that punctuate his work, since even through changing just about everything in terms of its plot, the themes remain the same, and the bare-boned, more unfurnished approach to exploring them (with the film being kept very lean and straightforward throughout) showing that it is entirely possible to adapt Shakespeare without it being overlong, flowery and dull, criticisms that are often levelled against less-effective versions of his work, and which Kurosawa singlehandedly disproved with this film. Featuring incredible performances and some exceptional creative work from everyone behind the scenes (with the cinematography by regular Asakazu Naka being particularly notable), Throne of Blood more than earns its place within the canon, being a tremendously entertaining, provocative and daring work that provides a fascinating glimpse into the past, doing so with such incredible consistency and dedication to its premise, and once again showing that Kurosawa was a singular artist whose vision and talent cannot ever be replicated.