The Bad Sleep Well (1960)
Directed by Akira Kurosawa

Film Review

Something is rotten in the state of present day Japan.  That is the message that director Akira Kurosawa strives to hammer home in The Bad Sleep Well, the first film he made for his newly founded film production company after his departure from Toho Studios.  A loose reworking of Shakespeare's Hamlet, the film offers an uncompromising commentary on the culture of corruption which Kurosawa believed was endemic in his country.  Drawing its inspiration from American film noir of the 1940s and 50s, this is one of Kurosawa's darkest and grittiest films, and the ending is about as pessimistic as it could be.  To Kurosawa, there was no greater crime than bribery and graft at the public level, and his film pulls no punches in its portrayal of a sleazy corporate world that is mired in criminality and totally lacking in morality.  Bribery is the oil that lubricates the wheels of commerce and middle-ranking executives are expected to sacrifice themselves, literally, to protect their superiors.  Hamlet's Elsinore resembles a house of virtue when compared with the moral decay and Machiavellian court intrigue that characterises Kurosawa's bleak representation of post-war Japan.  In 2002, the RSC staged a production of Hamlet in a similar modern corporate setting and this proved to be just as relevant, coming as it did in the wake of the recent Enron scandal.  Today, Kuroswa's vision still has a chilling resonance, and we do not have to look too far to see why this is.

This was not the first time that Kurosawa had taken his inspiration from the Bard.  A few years previously, he had made Throne of Blood (1957), arguably cinema's most inspired reinterpretation of Shakespeare's Macbeth, imaginatively fashioned as an exciting Samurai action drama.  Towards the end of his career, Kurosawa remade King Lear as Ran (1980), another lavish period piece.  The Bad Sleep Well is far less faithful to Shakespeare's text, the main point of departure being its downbeat ending, which allows the central villain of the piece to escape retribution, having thwarted his son-in-law's attempts to bring him to justice.  It is probably this fact alone - that the principal baddie goes unpunished - which accounts for the film's lukewarm reception at the box office.  Japanese audiences (like their American counterparts) prefer to see the good guys win.  Kurosawa's contention is that, in real life, corporate evil will always succeed because good men lack the moral fibre and tenacity for it to be otherwise (and usually they can be bought off).  As the hero of the film remarks, 'It is hard to be evil' - but only if you have a conscience.  Kurosawa conceded to his audience's wish to see good triumph over evil in his next film, Yojimbo (1961), which is an even darker commentary on corruption in present day Japan, albeit one dressed up as a Samurai film.  In that film, the hero walks away without so much as a scar, having comprehensively massacred all the villains.  Needless to say, Yojimbo was a runaway success.

The Bad Sleep Well has a great deal in common with Kurosawa's previous great film, Ikiru (1952), although stylistically the films could not be more different.  Both films feature a character who strives to bring about a greater social good in the milieu to which he belongs, and in doing so experiences something of a spiritual rebirth.  In each case, the main protagnoist fails to change the world for the better, although in Ikiru he succeeds in finding meaning in his own life.  In The Bad Sleep Well, the hero - a man out to avenge the death of his father (portrayed with arresting intensity by Toshirô Mifune) - fails spectacularly to achieve his aims, and his efforts appear to amount to nothing.  Two things lie behind this failure: the hero's misplaced scruples and the utter ruthlessness of his opponent.  In this dog-eat-dog world, there can be no place for a conscience.  It is a case of kill or be killed.

Despite his deeply pessimistic conclusion, it is evident that Kurosawa is on the side of the good guys and his film is as much an exploration of the morality of revenge as it is a commentary on corruption in post-war Japan.  The main character, Kôichi Nishi, is the one moral character in the film, the only character who is aware of the human consequences of his actions, and this of course seals his fate.  As the desire for revenge begins to eat away at him, Nishi comes dangerously close to losing his moral authority and, on a few occasions, he appears to relish the power he has over his victims.  (Kurosawa shows this with some stunning film noir touches, using the subjective camera to devastating effect.)  Yet, however close he may get to the precipice, Nishi always manages to pull back and resist the lure of evil.  He even ends up starting to love the crippled woman he has married (Iwabuchi's daughter) purely as a means of gaining proximity to his adversary.  Iwabuchi, by contrast, has no such redeeming features - he has completely given up his soul for personal ambition.  Yet even though Nishi is defeated, his efforts do not seem to be completely in vain.  Iwabuchi's son and daughter acquire a sudden vitality when they discover the truth and, having broken free of Iwabuchi's parental stranglehold, they are free to start a new life.  Even Iwabuchi, finally driven to resign his post, may be on the verge of turning over a new leaf.   The corrupt edifice may still remain intact, but it is possible that Nishi has chiselled enough cracks in its foundations to ensure that, one day, it will come crashing down.

One of the curious things about this film is that, given its sombre tone and occasional (quite frightening) excursions into sadism, Kurosawa doesn't actually show us how the hero meets his grisly comeuppance.  As in Ikiru, there is a dramatic jump-cut which appears to abridge a crucial part of the narrative.  One minute, the mood is upbeat, with Nishi confident that victory is within his grasp; the next, we learn that Nishi is dead, apparently having come to a very sticky end at the hands of his corporate enemies.  Rather than employ a flashback, Kurosawa uses that old Shakespearean device of getting a secondary character (Nishi's schoolboy friend and co-conspirator) to describe in gory detail how the hero met his end.  This device proves to be highly effective, giving an almost unbearably dark hue to the film's final reel as it underscores the sheer terrifying ruthlessness and invincibility of the corporate hoodlums who are running Japan.  However, the film's most chilling moment comes right at the end. Just who is the mysterious individual Iwabuchi is seen speaking to on the telephone?  Judging by Iwabuchi's deference, which betrays just a hint of terror, and the fact that he feels obliged to give a deep bow to the phone once he has placed the receiver back in its cradle suggests that Iwabuchi is a mere puppet, and that his strings are being pulled by someone very important indeed - perhaps someone in the government, maybe even the Prime Minister himself...?

Film Synopsis

In modern day Japan, Iwabuchi is the Vice President of one of the country's most important construction companies.  Not long ago, the company was implicated in a corruption scandal, although the matter was hushed up after one of its executives, Furuya, killed himself by jumping from a seventh floor window at the corporate headquarters.  It seems that history is about to repeat itself.  At the wedding reception of Iwabuchi's daughter Yoshiko and his secretary Koichi Nishi, police turn up with warrants to interrogate two of his senior staff, Wada and Miura.  Realising that he is facing arrest, Miura commits suicide; Wada attempts the same, but is prevented from doing so by Nishi.  It transpires that Nishi is in fact Furuya's illegitimate son, and he intends to avenge the death of his father by exposing the illegal activities of Iwabuchi and his lackeys.  With Wada's help, Nishi discredits one of the men who was complicit in his father's death and drives him insane.  He then kidnaps Moriyama, Iwabuchi's closest confidante, and extorts all the information he needs to secure Iwabuchi's arrest.  The only thing Nishi has not allowed for is the cunning and ruthlessness of his opponent...