Seven Samurai (1954), directed by Akira Kurosawa. Criterion Collection at home, Saturday, April 22.

Much to my chagrin, since it’s nearly 3 1/2 hours, Seven Samurai is one of those movies I’ll turn on late at night, “just to watch the first part”. And then I end up watching the whole damn thing, because it’s astonishing and I find something new every time, and am entertained beyond belief. I’ve seen this movie with my Dad somewhere–TV? at a theater?–I’ve seen it at the Uptown, at Oak Street, and at the Trylon microcinema in Minneapolis, and at the Berkeley Theater in the eponymous city east of San Francisco. That was the worst screening, because the print was shit and the last two minutes of the movie were gone.

As I said, each time I noticed something new and this time it was vulnerability. It’s interesting to me how much the men of this film must hide their vulnerability, and how war sometimes brings them to a point where they appreciate being vulnerable. From the young man Katsushirō, who steals away to play in the flowers (and discovers his love amongst the blossoms) to Toshiro Mifune’s Kikuchiyo, who can only reveal his weakness in times of drunkenness or despair, and, later, in the battles, we see that any vulnerability can be used to destroy–literally a breach in the defenses results in death and despair.

Seven Samurai is movie of so many extremes and emotions, it’s stunning to watch every time–I try to imagine watching it with someone who hasn’t seen it, just to try and remember how I felt the first time I saw it. Despite its length, I think it’s an amazing movie to show kids, maybe kids over 12, just because of their patience. It’s brilliant to teach people how to see things cinematically; how to build character, plot, tension; how to use use your sets or locations in your storytelling (notice how every remake of this movie fails to understand that the mountainous terrain and the different heights on which people walk conveys so much); and, best of all and fairly unique to Kurosawa, how shooting in actual rain, or wind, or truly burning down massive structures, captures one’s attention and makes you feel as though you are there.

In short, I love Seven Samurai, I love my memories of it at the many theaters in which I’ve enjoyed it, I love that I’ve seen it with my Dad, my friends, including friends now gone, and that I can watch it over and over and over and it makes me feel alive.