𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒂: 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕...
𝑲𝒚𝒐𝒂𝒎𝒊: 𝑺𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

Ran (乱, transl. "chaos" or "turmoil") is a 1985 epic action drama film directed, edited and co-written by Akira Kurosawa.
At the age of seventy, after years of consolidating his empire, Hidetora Ichimonji (Tatsuya Nakadai) decides to abdicate and divide his domain amongst his three sons. Taro (Akira Terao), the eldest, will rule. Jiro (Jinpachi Nezu), his second son, and Saburo (Daisuke Ryu) will take command of the Second and Third Castles but are expected to obey and support their elder brother. Saburo defies the pledge of obedience, and is subsequently banished.

For all that it is worth, 𝑹𝒂𝒏 was not originally intended as an homage to 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒓, with the influence of Mōri Motonari contextualizing the divergence from Shakespeare’s source material.
During the 16th century Motonari was a feudal lord in the Western region of Japan, who began as a smaller warlord of Aki Province. 𝑹𝒂𝒏 Head of the Mōri clan during a period of constant civil unrest, Motonari earned a reputation as a master strategist, with war, marriage, and a strong sense of diplomacy aiding in his eventual control of the entire Chugoku region.
In what would become the opening scene of ‘𝑹𝒂𝒏’, ‘the legend of the three arrows’ is postulated as resulting from a lecture Motonari gave his 3 sons with the intent of encouraging them to work together for the benefit of their entire family. Curious as to what purpose this lesson may serve if as a precedence to turpitude, Kurosawa began writing 𝑹𝒂𝒏, with its parallels to 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒓 being discovered and having an impact on the script well into the pre-production process having alrighty began.
Not one to skimp on opportunities for authenticity, much of 𝑹𝒂𝒏’s grandeur in terms of set-design and aesthetics goes largely without saying, with a hand-tailored collection of over 1,400 uniforms and armor (that took over 2 years to complete) and the scenery of Mount Aso (Japan’s largest active volcano) in combination with historical landmarks in both Kumamoto and Himeji providing a grand sweep of beauty amongst the thematic presence of disaster.
(A bit of a #Funfact, and one that speaks to his presence as a visual director, by the time he had made 𝑹𝒂𝒏 Kurosawa had lost nearly all of his eyesight. For approximately seven years before filming began he had painted storyboards for every shot in the film)

A merging of sorts - as many of Kurosawa’s films have proven to be - 𝑹𝒂𝒏 illustrated a stentorian understanding of 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒓’s conflicting principles, with interludes of exposition serving as an extensively contractual submersion of unexpected empathy. Hidetora - deservedly described as vicious, domineering, and brewing with entitlement - could be surmised as upholding a tradition of cruelty and exploitation: with the forced and imposed influence of isolation suggesting the destructive nature of egotistical mortification, nihilistic self-awareness, and communal restitution. Despite subtle and transient attempts at bolstering optimism amongst chaos, 𝑹𝒂𝒏 concludes with the suggestion that the human condition is such that hostility is preferable to peace, with the final shot oscillating on the metaphorical quiver of generosity and injustice.

The real tragedy, perhaps, is in how much of 𝑹𝒂𝒏 can be speculated as an allegorical representation of Kurosawa’s professional career. After a few decades of significant success and marked acclaim, the last two decades in which he made films were riddled with a periphery of hardships; unable to secure substantial financial backing for his projects, an episode in which he was fired from the set of 20th Century Fox’s 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒂! 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒂! 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒂! in 1968 and the poor reception 𝑫𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒔'𝒌𝒂-𝒅𝒆𝒏 (1970) contributed to a suicide attempt made by Kurosawa in 1971.
With 𝑹𝒂𝒏 being one of a handful of attempt at jump-starting his career, the precedence of his death would resemble that of the Great Lord Hidetora: some affirmations of success and notoriety tarnished by a plague of disappointment, retrospective uncertainty, and the inescapability of death.

Circumstellar as opposed to replicative, 𝑹𝒂𝒏 succeeds as a quintessentially accessible (and not to mention, exciting) introduction to the intrigue of 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒓, with Kurosawa’s style excavating the universality of its appeal. Firm, and yet analytically malleable, the subtext echoes the consistency of a could-be jello salad: transparent, and yet, still chock full of surprises.