Something Like An Autobiography

Something Like An Autobiography

Akira Kurosawa

Language: English

Pages: 205

ISBN: 0394714393

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Translated by Audie E. Bock.

"A first rate book and a joy to read.... It's doubtful that a complete understanding of the director's artistry can be obtained without reading this book.... Also indispensable for budding directors are the addenda, in which Kurosawa lays out his beliefs on the primacy of a good script, on scriptwriting as an essential tool for directors, on directing actors, on camera placement, and on the value of steeping oneself in literature, from great novels to detective fiction."

"For the lover of Kurosawa's movies...this is nothing short of must reading...a fitting companion piece to his many dynamic and absorbing screen entertainments."
--Washington Post Book World

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was absurdly funny. When I heard my brother’s opinion, I felt relieved. I wondered if my sister would be at all consoled by that ceremony in the main hall. She died at the age of sixteen. For some strange reason, I remember the Buddhist name she received after death in its entirety: To Rin Tei Kō Shin Nyo. (“Peach Forest Righteous Sunbeam Sincerity Woman”). Kendō IN PRIMARY SCHOOLS of the Taishō era, kendō swordsmanship was added to the regular curriculum beginning in the fifth grade. It

Ishikiribashi to the street with the trolley tracks, just about the time I reached Hattoribashi bridge I would pass the first trolley of the day going in the opposite direction. I crossed the Edogawabashi bridge. My journey to this point took about thirty minutes. From there I walked another fifteen minutes or so in the direction of Otowa, turned left and slowly climbed the hill toward Mejiro. In about another twenty minutes I could hear the drum announcing the start of morning lessons at the

greeting, to which a representative of the graduating class made a formal response. Then the graduates sang with organ accompaniment: “We sing thanks for our teacher’s kindness, We have honored and revered …” The fifth-year students followed this with: “After the years, met daily as brothers and sisters, You go on …” And at the end all together sang: “In the gleam of fireflies.” At this point all the girls would start sobbing. And in the midst of that, as valedictorian

material that would become a shiny jewel if polished correctly, but people are subject to what is called destiny. This destiny lies not so much in their environment or their position in life as within their individual personality as it adapts to that environment and that position. For all the straightforward and flexible people there are who do not let their environment and position get the better of them, there are just as many proud and uncompromising people who end up being destroyed by their

became a father, but my own father was never to see his grandchild. When I was ready to return to Tokyo, my father loaded me up with a huge backpack full of rice. Because I understood painfully well my father’s feeling of wanting to be sure that my pregnant wife at least had rice to eat, I allowed myself to be treated like a pack mule. The thing was so heavy that if I relaxed my muscles I fell over backward. In my topheavy condition I squeezed onto the train for Tokyo, which was already jammed

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