High and Low (1963)

Fewer names are as famous to the average cinephile as that of Akira Kurosawa. Ever since Rashamon premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 1951, he and many others such as Ozu and Mizoguchi ushered in the golden age of Japanese cinema throughout the 1950s. He is mostly known for his Jidaigeki or period pieces with flawed samurai protagonists, men of power typically, standing up to society’s lowly whilst protecting the weak and we see the same here but just set in the modern day. Be it in 1690 or 1960 one’s morality can be tested in similar ways which speaks to just how unchanging human nature has been over the millennia.

The film follows Gondo (Mifune), a minor shareholder of National Shoes, who find himself embroiled in the kidnapping of his chauffeur's son (Shinichi) whilst attempting to close a deal that would make him a majority shareholder and the fallout of the incident. Throughout the narrative, we find slowly piecing together the mystery as to who the kidnapper/s are and their motives whilst exploring the differences in class of 1960s Japan. The story asks one simple question; can Gondo set aside his ambitions to save a child with whom he has no personal relationship at the expense of his future? The consequences of his answer aren’t too surprising considering the capitalist world we live in. Tragedy can and will fall upon you with very little regard for your current situation. Its commentary has aged rather well unfortunately for the modern-day viewer. The rich can solve their problems with money but it’s the poor who often pay the heaviest price for their success be it intentional or not on their part. 

Kurosawa is a sensorial filmmaker and we see that in full effect here. The police officers sweat in a small room with only two fans among an odd twenty of them. They wipe the back of their necks and foreheads repeatedly. They pant in the sweltering heat whilst their shirts are drenched in sweat. This directly parallels the poor family in Parasite who are noted to smell several times throughout the course of the film, especially by their rich employers. The poor have minimal protection from the elements and/or don’t consider it a huge priority as they can neither luxury options nor care more for money for survival whereas Gondo and the successful business magnates have the pleasure of air conditioning in their houses. They rarely if ever sweat on camera. 

Dynamic camera movements are one of Kurosawa’s most recognizable trademarks with dolly movements combined with truly unique blocking making for some truly dynamic scenes. The camera and actor’s movements within the frame make for a very intricate dance that does well to show the character’s relationships with themselves and with the situation. It creates and heightens the drama in a rather unique way that only Akira could do. Be it the chauffeur (Aoki) constantly looking at the floor or turning his back to the camera in shame, typically in the background or at the very edge of the frame, to Gondo always having his body be the focal point to all the other characters around him as he commands the space and situation. The internal battles are externalized in rather ingenuous ways. He may be the victim to some degree through the writing but always having the working-class characters in the background reminds the audience who is the victim. 

However, it is worth noting that the film itself isn't strictly a critique of one aspect of class dynamics in Japan. There are unlikable villains on either side of the class spectrum here which adds a dimensionality to the characters which makes them less black and white and greyer. We see some succeed whom we wouldn't want to, we see some fail whom we feel are hard done by the situation. This approach to writing paints the narrative as close as possible to reality as one can as their humanity overlaps with one another in rather similar ways. All it takes is one longer to disrupt social harmony, but it takes dozens to restore balance. 

Ultimately Kurosawa urges us to not forget about our fellow man, not to be blinded by monetary gain. Sometimes to advance and find meaning in life we must accept bittersweet victories and not live a life led by resentment.