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Ikiru (1952). Death sparks the living to live. This might just be the master's greatest film. Sans samurais and any hint of an action figure, our hero, yes he is a hero, in a prosaic bureaucrat that has pretty much amounted to nothing in life, and he is in good company with the rest of his cohorts. But the painful consideration of impending death elicits Watanabe to search for life, though he knows not how to begin the search. Empty clichés of life are frantically attempted, but to no avail. The secret to living eludes our hero. The imagery here was sublime at times, giving credence to Kurosawa and crew for such a magnificent endeavor. Takashi Shimura deserves high mention for his astounding role as our protagonist. The story itself, simple yet told with supreme aplomb. The ending hints of the origins of South Korea's movie making style. In a word this flick was glorious. Merci beaucoup.
derek
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Fate is my mistress, mother of the cruel abomination that is hope.
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